He's a WHAT?
by Ana-chan86
Summary: He could have been anything. A Goblin. An Orc. A Mountain Troll. Hell, he could have been the King of Dwarves, for all Harry cared. But NO, of all the magical creatures, Draco Malfoy had to be a vampire. DMHP.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling; I own the ridiculous plot.

**Warning**: SLASH, LANGUAGE, OOC-NESS. This story disregards OotP, HBP and DH, which basically translates into: "lalala I can't hear you, all the characters I like are still alive."

**Pairings:** DM/HP, RW/HG, SS/SB, RL/NT

**Summary: **_He could have been anything. A Goblin. An Orc. A Mountain Troll. Hell, he could have been the King of Dwarves, for all Harry cared. But NO, of all the magical creatures, Draco Malfoy had to be a vampire.__ 7th year at Hogwarts._

_**Short A/N: This fic is dedicated to Kat-chan, my poor comrade lost in some godforsaken town of England. Cheer up. The rain will stop. Um. One day.**_

oOoOo

"Vampire. You know, Nosferatu. Bloodsucker," Hermione repeated patiently, her eyes not leaving the enormous book propped up against a jug of pumpkin juice.

Ron lowered his chicken wing to his plate and cupped his chin in his right hand, pretending to think. "Well, Malfoy _is_ a sucker, so I guess we'll just have to figure out the blood part."

"But—how would you know this, Hermione?" asked a bewildered Harry while Ron rubbed his head where the young witch had smacked him hard.

"Being the brain of the Golden Trio sort of helps. Besides, everybody knows I know everything," she answered distractedly, frowning at the page she was reading.

"But—there has to be some kind of mistake!" the Boy-Who-Lived insisted as Hermione absently smacked the redhead again for his less than pleasant comment about the size of her brain.

"But—haven't you seen him? He's a freaking blonde_—_"

"I din' know you had dat' kind of prejudish, mate," Ron chimed in unhelpfully, chewing on yet another chicken wing.

"—and he's got grey eyes, for Merlin's sake!"

Hermione had closed her thick tome and was looking at him suspiciously now. "Harry, have you by any chance noticed that each and every one of your sentences starts with 'butt'?" There was a short pause. Then, on a very serious tone: "Are you sexually frustrated?"

Ron emitted a strangled noise.

"Ha bloody ha, Hermione." Harry chose not to think about where exactly the bushy brown-haired girl had found that kind of knowledge. Poor, poor Ronniekins. Probably won't know what hit him. Harry sighed. Ron wouldn't understand love if it bit him in the ass, so poor Hermione would—

Um—

_Note to self: never associate "Ron", "'Mione" and "bite in the ass" in the same sentence. Ever. _

Harry liked his best friends, but he didn't need the mental images. Ew. That was just—ew.

"I'm not bloody frustrated," he sighed as he started playing with his napkin, "What I mean is, he's not the dark type—"

"Well, it depends on your definition of the concept, really," Hermione interrupted.

Ron frowned. "Mate, as much as it pains me to say, the git _is_ the Ice Prince of Slytherin. Y'know, with the wicked dark reputation that comes with it."

The Boy-Who-Lived was getting more and more annoyed. "Bu—I mean—oh hell, it's just a matter of logics! How by Hades can you be a vampire when you look like some bloody elf? Well, except for the pointy ears and dreamy looks," he added as an afterthought, still fiddling with the poor napkin. "Anyway, the story got it all wrong!" he exclaimed, arms flailing about. The two third years sitting next to the Golden Trio started sliding down the bench, away from their slightly deranged housemate. Harry was on a roll. "—and if Draco _Look-At-Me-And-Drool-To-Death_ Malfoy is anything, it has to be a Veela, VEE-LA, got it? Not a stupid vampire!" The innocent napkin was now being methodically strangled.

"Harry," Hermione warned.

"There's no way he gets to be a vampire when he's just some snot-nosed little—"

"Harry," Ron said, glancing worriedly at the napkin as it drew its last papery breath.

"I can't believe that arrogant sonova—"

"HARRY!" Ron and Hermione yelled in perfect unison.

_"What?"_ he snapped.

"You wouldn't happen to be—" Hermione slowly began as she too contemplated the now very dead napkin.

"See, it's just that you sort of sound like you're—" Ron began as well.

"—jealous," they ended together, throwing each other an identical horrified look.

oOoOo

The Great Hall was full of the usual packs; the first years had been a bit more difficult to unstuck from one another than last term—most probably because of Snape's Glare of Doom™—but they were now happily digging in the delicious food provided by the house elves.

The headmaster was his usual twinkling self. One could tell by his twitching brow that Snape was more than ready to hex the far-too-happy first years into next century. Flitwick and McGonagall were absorbed in a discussion about the pronunciation of some obscure spell: "I assure you Minerva dear, you had better not stress the second 'i'; you would end up conjuring a pack of ghouls that would start worshipping you as their goddess." "No, no, what I mean is, in order to get the spell to last longer, you have to pronounce it very slowly." Hagrid had to be thinking of Madame Maxime since he was currently trying to spoon-feed his right ear, and Remus Lupin was back as the DADA teacher, happily eating his soup.

The Slytherins were already plotting their ultimate revenge against a certain Savior of the Light. It did not matter that they had been on the same side during the war; even victorious, Gryffindorks would always be Gryffindorks. The Ravenclaws were not visible anymore, hidden behind tittering towers of books. The Hufflepuffs were chatting about the next Hogsmeade weekend: "—and then I'm going to kneel down in front of her and read my poem." "Oh my God! That's sooooo bold!" As for the Gryffindors, they were about to deal with one furious Harry Potter. Again.

Hermione and Ron had finally managed to restrain their homicidal and slightly obsessive best friend after their discussion with a certain Slytherin blonde when Seamus finally made it to the Gryffindor table. While it was a common occurrence for Seamus to arrive late in the Great Hall, what was less common that evening was the way he sat down at the Gryffindor table looking like the cat that got the canary, the cream, the milk and pretty much all of the dairy products to be found in a 10 mile radius. Used to his best friend's antics, Dean kept eating with his right hand and cuffed the Irish boy with his left. "Drop the stupid face, old woman. What's the latest gossip?" Rubbing his abused head and pouting for all he was worth, Seamus answered, unknowingly setting off a green-eyed, bespectacled bomb: "Some Ravenclaw lad was bragging about how he took a picture of Malfoy's wicked vampire teeth—"

*Crash* went the glass closest to the Boy-Who-Lived.

After that, saying that few breakable things at the Gryffindor table survived Harry's wrath would have been the understatement of the century. While Dumbledore cast a quick 'Reparo', he took a mental note to keep the irritable teenager away from his secret stash of lemon drop jars. For who would want to waste some poor, innocent candy?

oOoOo

Now here Harry was, stomping down the corridor leading to Gryffindor Tower. He had stormed off the Great Hall without looking at the mess he had created. To hell with the Feast. First, his best friends had had the most ludicrous idea; then the whole of Gryffindor had started gossiping about Malfoy and his awesome vampire powers. Gah! What were his friends thinking? How could he, Harry Potter, be jealous of Malfoy? Hell, their very names were an oxymoron.

Talk about morons, really.

The insufferable git had yet to prove that his face wasn't stuck in a permanent sneer while he was bloody sleeping. Satan would be making snowmen in hell the day that Draco Malfoy would actually smile. Such were the rambling thoughts of the Great Harry Potter when he looked up to see the very object of his jeal—rage walking his way.

Draco Malfoy was indeed coming from the Dungeons with Blaise Zabini. When he saw The Savior of the Cowarding World—how could all those people think that a mere boy had to save their sorry asses?—Draco realized it was already too late to attempt a subtle retreat. Not that he was afraid of his rival; he was actually disappointed in the new turn his relationship with the Gryffindor had taken. After all they had gone through—six years of competition and insults as well as a war against what had to be the Ugliest Lord Ever—Harry had just gone from hatred to a dull indifference, avoiding all types of confrontations and mostly keeping to himself. Draco sighed mentally and came back to reality with a start when Blaise elbowed him in the ribs. What could happen to him, anyway? Potter wouldn't even notice him.

Draco was already turning back to Blaise to continue their previous conversation about the Quidditch try-outs when he felt Harry's furious gaze on him. What was going on?

In a few quick strides Harry was next to the Slytherin, not even stopping when he snarled at the Malfoy heir: "You couldn't have been a Veela, could you?"

Draco blinked once. Twice. He turned to say something to the offending boy, but Harry had already disappeared around the corner, stomping so hard it made the paintings shake on the walls.

"What the—is he PMS-ing or something?" Blaise snapped. Draco just shrugged but couldn't help wondering as well. Everybody knew that Draco was a vampire. It was kind of unofficial since he hadn't bothered telling the whole school of the changes he had gone through the day of his sixteenth birthday, but baring his fangs was both more explicit and efficient than any kind of declaration. So why did Potter seem to have just learned about this?

The two 7th year resumed their walk to the Great Hall, the first muttering darkly about 'temperamental, bloody Gryffindorks' while the other wondered whether he should take the Veela thing as a compliment. What was that all about, anyway?

oOoOo

Harry was certainly not sulking in the dorms, thank you very much. He was just righteously depriving his friends from his presence. There. Stupid friends saying stupid things about him. He lay sprawled on his bed with his curtains closed.

Snapping at Malfoy had helped him calm down a bit, but he was still annoyed. How could he do this to him? They had been enemies for so long and yet Harry had failed to see such a huge part of Malfoy. Harry closed his eyes. If he wanted to be honest with himself, he had to admit that he was indeed jealous of Draco Malfoy. But he'd never tell a single soul. No. Over his dead body. Because it was one thing to be the Hero of the wizarding world; it was another to have silly, childish dreams.

Like wanting to be a vampire.

Back when he'd been a child at the Dursleys', Harry had stumbled upon a book about vampires among a pile of presents his cousin had declared "dangerous". Trust Dudley to think that books were a hazard to his already puny brain. Of course, the book was written from the Muggle perspective, which was only a very simplified version of what being a vampire entailed. Nevertheless, Harry remembered how he had wished to fade in the shadows, escape Dudley's beatings thanks to his inhuman speed and scare the Great Whale to death by flashing a bright set of sharp fangs. Sure, he'd have needed blood to sustain himself, but to the imprisoned child he had been, being a vampire had meant freedom above all.

Harry sighed for the umpteenth time. He shouldn't dream about this anymore. Things were looking much better, now. Big Bad Baldiemort was now pushing up the daisies, which was certainly an improvement. Sirius Black had been cleared of Lily and James' murders and Harry had been able to move to his Godfather's house.

As for Lucius Malfoy, he had been kicked out of his own house by his furious wife. It seemed that the proud Narcissa Malfoy had discovered that, despite claiming the contrary, her husband had still been crawling at the feet of the demented, snake-faced psychopath commonly known as Voldemort. While Narcissa might have been a Black before she became a Malfoy, she had always striven to preserve her family's honor: Malfoys did not crawl and that was all there was to it. The Aurors who came to make Lucius Malfoy answer for his foul actions found him sucking his thumb and pouting like a child in front of the closed gate of Malfoy Manor. His now ex-wife had cursed him with a brain de-aging spell to "punish the brat he had been all his life."

So yes, Harry's life had definitely improved; yet he couldn't help feeling like something was missing...

Whatever.

He'd better go to sleep anyway. It was his last year at Hogwarts and he had promised Sirius to enjoy it as much as he could; and so he would.

oOoOo

_**A/N ("Author's Nonsense"): **__Hey guys! First, thanks for reading until here. Congratulations. You are impervious to bad puns and to my lame humor. Haha. Anyway, I just wanted to make a couple of things clear:_

_-English is not my native language; French is. Same goes for my lovely beta-reader __**Ash of Mine**__. If you want to know more, go check our profiles._

_-This is my __**very first**__ fiction hence the horrible structure, the awkward sentences and all the mistakes you'll find._

_Conclusion: DON'T FLAME! Constructive criticism is most welcome, though. Thanks again!_


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling; I own the ridiculous plot.

**Warning**: SLASH, LANGUAGE, OOC-NESS. This story disregards OotP, HBP and DH, which basically translates into: "lalala I can't hear you, all the characters I like are still alive."

**Pairings:** DM/HP, RW/HG, SS/SB, RL/NT

**Summary: **_He could have been anything. A Goblin. An Orc. A Mountain Troll. Hell, he could have been the King of Dwarves, for all Harry cared. But NO, of all the magical creatures, Draco Malfoy had to be a vampire.__ 7th year at Hogwarts._

_**A/N:**__ KYAAAA! THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU! I can't believe that so many people actually read my crappy, crappy first chapter. I promise I'll do my best to improve. A long hard road indeed._

oOoOo

Everything was quiet at Hogwarts, famous School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The castle stood proudly in the grey morning light; the Forbidden Forest resembled a dark and silent pool in the distance. The wind was blowing softly in the foliage, making the trees murmur. The green, soft-looking grass was covered with a delicate, gently glowing dew. Everything was at peace when—

"AAAAAAUGH!"

"You asked for it, mate," said a broadly smiling Ron.

"RONALD BILIUS WEASLEY! Come here, you traitor! You're so going to regret this!" a very wet Harry Potter yelled as he jumped out of his bed.

"But Harry, water never killed anyone. I mean, it was just a tiny bucket—"

"STOP RUNNING AND TAKE IT LIKE A MAN, YOU STUPID—"

"On second thought, Hermione once said that water could be dangerous. Told me about those people killed by that big bloke with a weird name, what's it again? Oh right, the 'Titan Ick'—is that even a name?—but I think the water was much colder than the one I poured on you so—"

"YOU SORRY EXCUSE FOR A FRIEND! BACKSTABBER! COME AND FIGHT, YOU COWARD!" the fuming Boy-Who-Lived bellowed, still running after his soon-to-be dead best friend.

"Harry, I _had _to do something, you were sleeping like the dead. Well, like some dead drooling something, anyway. And I know you need an hour before deciding to get up so I just helped you there. Like a real friend would. You should thank me, really."

"REAL FRIEND, MY—"

"My, my, young people nowadays are such ungrateful little punks," Ron interrupted before anything too shocking could be said.

Dean, Seamus and Neville were watching the mad race around their room while preparing for class.

"Ten to one Harry's going to take his revenge," Seamus declared.

"There's just no way, he's never going to catch Ron, he's too small," Dean argued logically.

"I didn't say he was actually going to catch him," Seamus pointed out with a grin.

"Shouldn't we tell them that they have less than 20 minutes before class starts?" asked Neville with a worried expression.

"Nah, they'll be fine," Dean said. "They know they have to get their schedules anyway."

"C'mon guys, I'm hungry!" Ron whined while keeping away from his shorter best friend's flailing fists, blocking him with a mere hand on the head. And without any further warning, he let go and waltzed out of the room.

"Do you think Harry's gonna be OK?" Neville asked, casting a worried glance back when they heard a loud crash followed by a variety of muffled curses.

"It's all right, Neville. You're such a mother hen," the redhead teased. "What I said is true: Harry wouldn't wake up on the first day of school. I bet he starts with Potions anyway so nobody's going to notice if he's pissed because of me and not Snape," Ron concluded smugly. "Do you think there'll be pancakes today?" he added with hopeful, gleaming eyes, all thoughts of his soaked friend already gone.

oOoOo

Harry Potter was not a happy camper. After all he had been through—the Dursleys, the multiple attempts on his life by Voldemort, his being molested by said snake-fetichist for a bit of blood and the final battle at the end of his sixth year—the Boy-Who-Was-Too-Stubborn-To-Die had thought that he could at least enjoy his first quiet night's sleep but noooo, now that his worst enemy was washing Satan's socks in hell, his very best friend had thought it a wonderful idea to attack him during his sleep.

He knew he wasn't usually that annoyed when awaken by someone, though; it had something to do with his dream, about—what had he been dreaming about already? Something about a soft-looking silver pool that seemed to glow with powerful magic. He had felt so happy and at peace with the mere presence of that pool, whatever it was. Harry was sure the dream had some sort of meaning. His subconscious had been trying to tell him something. Hadn't he felt like something important was missing in his life, lately? Someone?

He took a few seconds to remember the last girl he had _thought_ mattered to him—

Cho.

Urgh.

Suddenly, he wasn't so sure his dream had anything to do with his love life anymore. He did certainly not need any more wet kisses from a girl who cried rivers every time she looked at his face. So what could possibly—Harry looked at his watch and froze.

"Gah! I'mlateI'mlateI'mlate!"

And with his rotten luck, he would start with Potions and a very _very _grumpy Snape.

'I'm so dead', he thought as he dashed into the bathroom to wash his face, not even bothering to try and wage the already lost battle against his hair. To think he had grown them a bit in the hope it would become less messy. He looked at his reflection in the mirror and grimaced at the sight of the long black locks framing his face. His eyes were as green as ever, even if they seemed a bit dull at the moment.

Breaking the staring contest with his pale reflection, he splashed some water on his face—not that he hadn't had enough, already—and ran down the stairs of the Gryffindor common room, barely missing a few steps. Crashing down the bloody stairs was not an appealing option right before Potions.

Why had he decided to take the stupid subject, anyway? Oh yeah, because the old coot had practically forced him to, arguing that since Harry did not know yet what he wanted to do after school, he'd better take Potions because he couldn't _begin_ to imagine how useful such knowledge was, how full of consequences such a choice was at this time of his life and by the way, would he like a lemon drop?

Harry ground his teeth. He would _not_ become an Auror as Dumbledore wanted, thank you very much. It had been the very job that had killed his parents. Besides, the Boy-Who-Had-Done-His-Job thought just that, so he deemed it fair to finally get his well-earned freedom; to hell with anybody else's expectations.

Harry finally reached the huge doors of the Great Hall and kicked them open. He then swooped down on Hermione like Goyle on a chocolate muffin.

"Harry, what were you—"

"NO TIME! I'mlateI'mlateI'mlate! Hermione save me pretty please with lots of marshmallows on top?"

The Head girl shook her head with a knowing smile and watched her best friend disappear through the doors.

_How does he manage to get in trouble on the very first day of school?_ she mused.

Deciding she'd know before the end of the day, she headed for the Headmaster's office, where she was supposed to have a meeting with the prefects. She had not been surprised to learn that Malfoy was Head boy. For all the horrible things the insufferable blonde was, she had to acknowledge that he was one hell of a rival in getting the best grades. To both the Gryffindors' and the Slytherins' surprise, he had helped Snape brew all kinds of much needed potions during the war after telling Voldemort where exactly he should put his offer to join him. Hermione had also noticed the way Malfoy had stopped taunting Harry, insulting Ron or calling her a Mudblood. He still was his arrogant, proud Malfoyish self, but was more discreet about it than he used to be.

Hermione knew though that it was not due to his father's condition. The blonde had made it clear that he was most pleased with his mother's way of 'dealing' with her now ex-husband. The young aristocrat he was had standards, after all. The Head girl was curious to see how he would behave this year.

oOoOo

Harry barely made it to the much hated door of the potions classroom. He entered breathing heavily and went to the back, where a single table was left. He thanked whoever was responsible for this small mercy. He didn't pay any attention to the rest of the students who happened to be all from Slytherin. He really should go to the library one day, to try and find out which deity he had so deeply offended. He didn't have time to consider this idea much longer though, because Snape was currently storming into the room.

Billowing black robes; check.

Bad mood; check.

Scowling face; check.

Final lethal touch: greasy hair; check.

Repulsive kit under control.

"You have supposedly reached the level of knowledge required to take this Advanced Potions course." Snape started in an ominous voice. "Some of you may have benefited from a certain _help_ to get here, but they might as well sit down on their hope to ever understand the subtle art of brewing potions," Snape sneered, eyes never leaving a certain Gryffindor.

Said Gryffindor mentally rolled his eyes. _Somebody please tell the greasy git that you're not supposed to hold a grudge against a person's progeny. Get over it, you slime ball!_ He thought impatiently.

Unaware of his most hated student's musings, the Potions Master turned to the board. With a lazy wave of his wand, the instructions to brew Veritaserum appeared.

"I don't expect any of you to realize how difficult and delicate the preparation of Veritaserum is. This will be considered as a test; those who fail to brew the potion will have to leave the room. Permanently," he continued with a decidedly wicked gleam in his eyes.

"You have an hour and a half so you'd better _move,_" he added gleefully.

Harry sighed and dragged his feet to the storeroom where he knew he'd find an army of slimy dead things. He too would soon be dead if he didn't get the bloody potion right. He didn't like Snape's little plan to get him kicked out of the course; he would have to get the stupid potion right just to spite the greasy git. He suddenly realized that Hermione was supposed to be the only other Gryffindor taking this course as well; but then he also remembered something about a meeting for prefects and the like.

_Please, whatever god is listening, let Hermione get here before the end of the class. I really need someone to help me with this._

Meanwhile, the door of the classroom had opened. Draco Malfoy strode in gracefully, a bored look on his aristocratic features. He went straight to Snape's desk and gave him the headmaster's note about the meeting. Looking around for a free desk, he saw the red and gold scarf on a chair and decided it would be a nice occasion to learn more about the weird comment his black-haired nemesis had spat the day before. A small smirk appeared on his face. It had been far too long since he had last teased his favorite enemy. It wouldn't do to let the slight Gryffindor forget about him. Nobody forgets a Malfoy. Especially not the Boy-Who-Lived.

Seeing his most brilliant student heading for a Gryffindor-contaminated table, Snape made sure his inner panic didn't show on his face. This was not supposed to happen; his plan to exclude the annoying Brat-Who-Lived was perfect this time! What was his godson thinking? He was too smart not to have understood who was currently occupying that desk.

"Mr. Malfoy? I doubt you would want to waste your knowledge and time on our resident hero. I suggest you—"

"It's all right, professor, working with Potter will be fine," Draco interrupted, not even bothering to glance at his godfather and thus missing the look of sheer horror on said godfather's face.

While Snape was trying to decide whether he should check his godson for an evil potion or a very potent curse, Harry emerged from the storeroom with an armful of weird-looking, smelly ingredients. As he looked at his table, he almost dropped everything out of shock. What the hell was Malfoy doing there? Turning his furious gaze to Snape, he saw that the man looked as flustered as him—years spent trying to decipher Snape's face-language had paid off and saved Harry on many occasions—while the rest of the Slytherins' stares fell on him, expecting some kind of confession about the spell he had used on Malfoy.

"Hello, Potter. Long time no see. I won't ask about your vacation, I don't care. How about you stopped gaping like some brain-dead fish now?" the blonde said with a knowing smirk. Harry closed his mouth with an audible 'click'.

"Now get your skinny ass here, Veritaserum is rather long to prepare."

Harry gathered his scattered wits which, at the sight of the gorg_—_annoying blonde sitting there had traitorously packed and gone for a trip, waving in the distance.

"You! What are you doing here?" he fumed, not quite daring to point a finger for fear that he should smear mashed worms on his school robes.

"Language, Potter. Since your sorry excuse for a brain seems to have deserted your messy head, and because I'm very patient, I shall remind you this one time. I happen to have succeeded in entering this course and as I fully intend to pass the NEWTs, I would appreciate it if you could bring these ingredients to our table in order for us to get started."

"Shut up, I know _why _you're here, what I want to know is why you're _here_!" Harry retorted, not moving from his spot in the middle of the way.

"Mr. Potter, if I were you, I would just shut my mouth and thank Mr. Malfoy for agreeing to work with someone of your retarded condition. 10 points from Gryffindor for making a scene in my class and disturbing your fellow students," Snape finally intervened with a dangerous edge to his voice. Harry refrained from snorting at the mention of his 'fellow students'. The Slytherins were enjoying the show so much that they wouldn't have noticed if Dumbledore had waltzed into the room wearing a pink ballet skirt and doing a series of entrechats. The Gryffindor sat down with a huff. He had almost forgotten how much Malfoy liked to torture him in public, especially in Potions.

At that very moment, somebody knocked on the door and Hermione came into the room, stopping immediately at the strange sight that met her eyes. Snape looked ready to pull out his greasy hair; the Slytherins were hesitating between smirking and looking at Malfoy as if he'd grown a horn and Harry was scowling next to what seemed like a very smug Malfoy. _What the heck is going on?_ Hermione's braincells screamed.

"Miss Granger, I can see the tiny wheels working themselves to exhaustion in that bottomless pit that is your mind and so I kindly suggest that you cease trying to grasp the present situation. 10 points from Gryffindor for arriving after Mr. Malfoy here," he concluded, desperate to find something—anything—to vent on. Hermione kept a cautious silence, telling herself that she was the one earning all the points, anyway. She walked past the tables until she reached the one behind Harry where she sat down, next to a still bewildered Theodore Nott.

"What are you waiting for? Back to work!" snapped a very angry—and slighty sulking—Potions Master.

Everybody came out of their daze at once and hurriedly began to chop, grind, pour and stir. Harry was silently fuming. Why were the gods so mad at him? _They did answer your prayers, _a voice said in his head. _Hermione has been on time and there is someone here to help you, isn't there? _It added in a smug tone. _Argh! To hell with this!_ Harry mentally kicked the stupid voice. He would not look at Malfoy, who had once again utterly humiliated him in front of the whole class.

"Aw, come on, Potter, don't pout like a three-year-old, though I must say it rather suits you," the vampire said.

"I'm not pouting!" Harry exclaimed.

"You've just proved the second part of the statement, O Great One."

"Why you—"

"I thought we had already established the reason for my exceptional self to be here," Draco sighed.

And so the minutes went by with Draco keeping up to his reputation of being the only person capable of pissing Harry off in less than 2 seconds. However, Harry was starting to feel light-headed. Why was his head spinning now? Oh right, he hadn't eaten anything last night before neatly destroying every breakable item on the Gryffindors' table, and he didn't have time to eat this morning. When was the last time the Dursleys had let him have dinner? Or any other meal for that matter? It seemed like such a long time ago—

Draco realized something was amiss when he saw Harry wobble next to the cauldron.

"Hey, Potter! What the—"

Before he had time to finish his sentence, Harry was already falling backwards. _Who turned the bloody lights off?_ was the Gryffindor's last thought before he tumbled into a black void.

oOoOo

Harry opened his eyes to a great white—something. It was a nice change after the great black nothing. What had he done this time to earn a special trip to the infirmary? His mind was still a little foggy. He might as well start with the usual causes. Quidditch? No, he had told the team himself that they wouldn't start training before two weeks. And since he had personally taken care of Dormivolt—Vordimlot—whatever his _ridiculous_ name had been, this was not it.

So what had he—

"Gah," he said for the second time that day. Fainting out of hunger right in front of Malfoy. He could already see the headlines of the Daily Prophet: 'BOY-WHO-LIVED-TO-STARVE-TO-DEATH!'

"Why me?"(1) he whined aloud. Madam Pomfrey, who had heard Harry talking to himself, was now slightly worried he had hit his head somewhere despite what the Malfoy heir had said.

"Mr. Potter? Are you alright? Do you feel any pain? I had to feed you a nourishing potion. What were you thinking? You have to eat reasonably, you are a growing—" At which something that sounded suspiciously like 'dwarf' and 'laughing stock' came from the bed, but the patient nurse continued nonetheless, "—teenager. Besides you can't afford to miss your first day of school. You should thank Mr. Malfoy for, um, bringing you here," she finished looking anywhere but in his direction.

"Malfoy brought me here?" he asked incredulously. Then he realized there was something else. He had this foreboding feeling—

"What do you mean, 'bringing' me here?" he frowned.

"Erm—yes. Quite literally. Um—bridal style," she specified, blushing slightly and still admiring the beautiful chair next to his bed.

"Whaaaaa—but he—we—I mean I—" he stuttered miserably. "Why was he the one to—why didn't he use the Mobilicorpus charm?" he finally managed.

"I have no idea. You will have to ask him next time you see hi—" She stopped, turning scarlet.

There was a pause.

"Nooonononono, that's not what you think it is, we're—" he tried, turning an interesting shade of red as well.

"Whatever, Mr. Potter," she said, still not quite meeting his eyes. "I think you are now healthy enough to go back to class." She shooed him out of the infirmary and he was left in front of the closed door, face still burning.

"Is this a fucking conspiracy or what?" he asked no one. He sighed. He'd better stop talking aloud; Madam Pomfrey had seemed worried enough about him already. Hell, _he_ was worried about himself right now. Were they trying to make him die from embarrassment? Sighing again, he headed for Charms, silently praying for this to be the last weird happening of the day.

oOoOo

_**(1) Read the wonderful fic by Shades "Opacre" and its sequel "Qye" (on hiatus, though...T-T)**_

_**Author's Nonsense: **__Hello, everyone! Thank you for reading this chapter. Not much happening in there, I know, but I have to set some things first in order for the main action to be interesting._


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling; I own the ridiculous plot.

**Warning:** SLASH, LANGUAGE, OOC-NESS. This story disregards OotP, HBP and DH, which basically translates into: "lalala I can't hear you, all the characters I like are still alive."

**Pairings:** DM/HP, RW/HG, SS/SB, RL/NT

**Summary: **_He could have been anything. A Goblin. An Orc. A Mountain Troll. Hell, he could have been the King of Dwarves, for all Harry cared. But NO, of all the magical creatures, Draco Malfoy had to be a vampire.__ 7th year at Hogwarts._

oOoOo

"Haaaaaaaa."

Harry let out another endless sigh. Today had been a very accurate definition of a 'trying day'.

There was the traitorous attack at dawn by none other than his best friend; the mad running to get to Potions on time; the awful moment with Malfoy; then his lovely trip to the infirmary where he had learned that he owed Malfoy for—uh, better not think about that ultimate shame.

Harry had made it to Charms where he had been confronted with what now seemed to be Hogwarts students' latest hobby: Harry-staring 2, the Return. He was used to it—or to a certain extent anyway—after all the years he had spent in the wizarding world. He was the bloody Boy-Who-Lived, and he'd been in turn a walking, breathing miracle, a snake-freak, a madman, a liar, a blood dispenser, a murderer, and finally a hero. It certainly had been an interesting career, if not a bit unwanted. At least, Harry could say he had an interesting résumé.

Anyway, here Harry was, being the center of all attention yet again for fainting in a certain Ice Prince's arms, although that would be the female Hufflepuffs' version. The Ravenclaws thought it was a very clever and subtle plan to seduce Malfoy into spilling all of the Slytherins' secrets. The Slytherins themselves were thinking along those lines, except that it had been a diversion to get Malfoy alone and then torture him until he spilled. As for the Gryffindors, they were just worried for Harry's health and suspected it was part of one of Malfoy's latest schemes to humiliate the Boy-Who-Lived.

Consequently, after being marvelled at by the Ravenclaws during double Charms, gaped at by the Hufflepuffs during Herbology, glared at by the Slytherins in the corridors, worriedly glanced at by the Gryffindors during the whole afternoon, and finally being shamelessly looked at by everyone throughout dinner, Harry had had enough. There was only so much staring one could take before going Avada Kedavra on people's asses.

Harry had quickly stuffed his stomach with whatever wonderful dish had been on the table, not wanting a repeat of the episode at the infirmary, and especially not wanting ANYONE to carry him bridal style ANYWHERE. When Hermione commented on how little he had eaten, the green-eyed Gryffindor muttered something about being tired and trekked back to the dorms. His four-poster bed seemed so inviting that he quickly brushed his teeth, threw his clothes all over the place—it made it easier to choose which ones he'd wear when he'd be late the next morning—drew the curtains and got under the thick and wonderfully soft blankets. He fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow; he never saw the worried and somewhat suspicious glance Ron threw in his direction when he returned from the Great Hall.

Harry was dreaming of the nice silvery mist again. It was growing more and more distinct although it kept the shape of the soft, glowing pool he had first dreamed of. The silvery magic reacted like some kind of living, liquid power; Harry knew that it could be either gentle or deadly. How he knew, he had no idea. Gradually, the pool assumed the shape of a snake which started slithering gracefully in Harry's direction. Strangely, the raven-haired boy didn't feel threatened at all, on the contrary; it reminded him of something or rather, someone. That's it. Someone who felt—right. But who?

Harry knew he had been about to remember the person when a voice whispered in his ear and told him to _wake up_; his eyes snapped open to the dark canopy of his bed. _What the hell?_ he thought annoyed as he groped around for his glasses and his wand. If even his dreams were disturbed by some deranged voices, he'd have to take Dreamless Sleep potions again, and they tasted like dead slugs. Not that he made a habit of eating those, but Ron had actually said something along those lines once.

When he realized it was still very dark outside, Harry tried everything he could think of to go back to sleep: counting hippogriffs; naming each and every snore coming from Ron's bed. He even tried the ultimate weapon: replaying Binn's voice during History of Magic class; to no avail. He was once again cursing the stupid voice in his dreams when it occurred to him that a bit of flying could help him find sleep. Soon enough, he was out on his broom, doing all kinds of aerobatics on the Quidditch pitch.

Harry had been captain of the Gryffindor team for some time, but he had been glad to let Ron be the real strategist. He did like Quidditch, but organizing and ordering his team around was certainly not what he liked about it. No, the real thrill was the competition; the knowledge that he had so much to gain or lose depending on the way he used his skills. It was an immensely satisfying feeling to catch the Snitch under the very nose of the other team's Seeker. Take Malfoy, for example. There was nothing like the way the Slytherin's eyes would burn when he'd watch Harry during a difficult match. This was _their _competition; they were alone, the other players and the crowd fading to the background to leave them both focused on the Snitch. Besides, the 'Slytherin Ice Prince' was always acting and speaking coldly, never losing his temper. Harry was thrilled by the knowledge that he was the only one who could make Malfoy lose control of his many masks and become that passionate player who gave his all during a match. Why did Malfoy have to be such a cold-hearted bastard?

Harry had been flying for a while now, and he knew he had to go back. A deep sigh escaped his lips. He landed near the Lake and was about to head back towards the castle when he caught something moving out of the corner of his eyes. He quickly hid behind a tree, silently praying he had not been spotted. Dropping to the ground, he drew his wand and took a quick look. He was right; someone was silently walking towards the Forbidden Forest. Who would be desperate enough to go there at night? Harry was torn. Should he go after the person or head back?

A mini Harry with a halo appeared on his right shoulder, wearing a robe so white it would have made Petunia Dursley green with envy. Harry thought he looked rather like an overgrown fly with his batting, fluffy wings.

"No, Harry, you _must_ go back to the Castle," Mini-White-Harry admonished. "Do you realize that you are already betraying Headmaster Dumbledore's trust by being out so la—"

KICK!

"Oh, stuff it, will you?" an irritated voice interrupted. Another mini Harry popped out of nowhere, wearing tight black jeans and a silk crimson shirt. He also had tiny black wings, a black pointy tail and horns. Hands shoved in his pockets, he had kicked Mini-White-Harry across his super-white bottom, sending him into the air.

"Everybody knows the Old Coot doesn't give a damn about what Harry does!" the sexy little figure snapped. "And trust? What trust? That shriveled old prune has been lying to Harry ever since day one. Harry needs some fresh air and he's more than able to defend himself."

"Um," Harry tried.

"Harry, don't listen to him!" the white floating figure cried as it flapped back to his shoulder. "This would be far too dangerous and as the saying goes 'curiosity killed the cat', and you can't just—"

"Do you ever shut that huge mouth of yours? Get your broom out of your ass, it's just a bit of fun!" Mini-Dark-Harry sneered.

"Err—" Harry said.

"Besides it's not as if it'd be the first time he went down there. During his very first year, Dumbydork himself sent him right into the awaiting hands of the Lard Dork," the tiny devil added pointedly. "That snake-guy was nasty, by the way."

"..." Harry agreed.

"Harry, tell me you don't believe a single word this—this _foul _creature of the Tempter says?" the angel asked pleadingly.

At the insult, Mini-Dark-Harry bowed gracefully and blew a kiss to his counterpart.

"..." Harry said with conviction.

"Aaah, there's a good boy, and not some kind of prudish, scared little tattler," Mini-Dark-Harry approved.

"Harry, I know what you are about to do and I have no other choice but to listen, so I will go away for now. I hope you will not regret your rash decision. Goodbye," Mini-White-Harry said sadly, disappearing with an audible 'pop'.

"That's right! Buy a forest and get lost in it!" the victorious little devil cackled. "Talking about forests, Harry, what are you waiting for?" he asked with a smirk. "Have fun," he purred before disappearing as well.

Harry shook his head, coming back to reality. Of course he was curious, and he could take care of himself. He cautiously stood up, checked that no one was watching, and took a few strides towards the Forest. The shadow must have gone deep into it already. After a few seconds spent trying to determine which direction the person had taken, Harry walked down the path on his left, trying to detect the faintest of sounds. It was a bright night; the moon and the stars were out. Still; the trees' eerie shadows loomed ahead of him, their branches' elongated shadows drawing ominous shapes on the dark, irregular ground. When the path he was following forked yet again, Harry stopped for a bit, trying to decide where to go when his eyes caught sight of a very dim light on his right.

He followed the bluish light for a few minutes which seemed like hours to him. Where the heck was that thing going, anyway? As he started thinking that Mini-White-Harry might have been less stupid than he thought—"I heard that!" an angry voice shouted inside of his head—the light finally stopped moving forward. The person was now standing in the middle of a clearing, the moon softening their features. Harry came closer. He knew that graceful figure from somewhere. If he could get just a little closer—

Harry refrained from gasping out loud.

Malfoy. It was Malfoy standing in the middle of the night in one of the many clearings of the Forbidden Forest as if it were the most natural thing to do. Well, Harry should have known. The git _was_ a vampire after all. The Gryffindor looked at his nemesis again. Hell. There should be some kind of law against this. _'One shall not stand under the moonlight so that it gives one's hair and features a bloody fairytale-like glow.' _

Harry was still mentally complaining about the unfairness of the situation when the object of his musings suddenly stiffened and whipped around, looking straight at Harry. The blonde was so shocked to see that he had been followed by none other than the Boy-Who-Lived that he did not react immediately.

"Malfoy! What the hell are you doing here at this time of the night?" Harry shouted with a worried note that surprised both of them.

Draco could not resist. "Why, I didn't know you cared _Harry,_" he purred.

Harry growled. "I don't fucking care! I was just—"

"—being nosy, as usual. No, no, don't look at me like that. And don't try to say anything else, you'd be wasting your time but most importantly mine, so why don't you go back to your room and let people go on with their business, hm?" he interrupted nonchalantly.

Harry decided to ignore the taunt. "And what, pray tell, would people's business be right here and now?" he retorted.

He was curio—er, he had to know for the sake of general safety what Malfoy was up to. Just to make sure it wasn't anything threatening the rest of the school. There. It sounded plausible enough to him.

"That wouldn't be any of your business."

Oh well. Obviously, not plausible enough to anyone else.

"I swear, if you're doing something even remotely related to Voldemort I'm going to—"

"Keep your boxers on, the Dark Lord's dead, remember? Final battle? You sneaking up behind him, reducing his wand to tiny bits that you made him swallow one by one? Rings any bell?" the blonde said, enjoying Harry's touchiness.

"I didn't sneak up behind him! That noseless freak had it coming! I was just too pissed to think about anything else at that time. Sorry for not being original when it came to destroying his Evilness," Harry grumbled.

"Not at all, I thought it was actually quite original if not a bit, let's say, unorthodox," Draco drawled, amused.

"I guess I could have made him look at himself in a mirror. He certainly would have died of a heart attack," Harry mused.

"Or you could have shown him a picture of Pansy naked," Draco shivered. "Though I admit it would have been a bit harsh. Poor bloke. Some things are just too violent for human eyes to behold," he stated wisely. "Even if said human was half-snake," he added as an afterthought.

"Wha—you saw Parkinson naked? Is that even bearable for the eyes? Tell me you didn't actually _want_ to see her naked," a horrified Harry said.

"Are you kidding?" Draco screeched. "I'm dark, not suicidal. She managed to break the spells I had placed on my bed. I'd been doubting Goyle's loyalty for quite a while." Draco frowned. "That stupid whale mysteriously acquired ten boxes of Chocolate Frogs around that time, but I didn't have to punish him: he was sick for a whole week after that. Served him right. I haven't seen much of Pansy, but it was already way too much, trust me. She was even wearing some kind of pink lipstick matching her garter belt—" he trailed off, and both of them shuddered at the thought.

"That's sick_. _It's a bloody miracle you even survived this with your sanity," Harry agreed. "It actually reminds me of Cho—" he shuddered again, turning an interesting shade of green.

"Chang? What did she do to you? I thought you two were the happiest couple ever," Draco asked, bewildered.

"Urgh. I wish I had never taken her to Hogsmeade. Worst mistake of my life, that was," Harry grimaced. "She 'kissed' me once. Imagine a snail trying to get down your throat; you'll have a good picture of my life trauma then. Even before that, she was always complaining about how suddenly hot it was, and then she had to take off her shirt, and I think she also had some kind of problem with her eyes because they wouldn't stop twitching like mad," he said, trying to decipher the meaning of life's biggest mystery: girls' weird behavior.

"Girls are pretty terrifying. There should be a book explaining why girls think the way they do," Draco grumbled while Harry nodded heartily.

The vampire paused.

"I can't believe we're having a civil conversation in the middle of the Forest at one past three in the morning," he remarked, amazed.

"Huh? That's right! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE?" Harry shouted quite unnecessarily, since Draco was now standing ten feet away from him.

Draco sighed. "So much for the civil conversation," he muttered. "I might as well try to get rid of you by satisfying your Gryffindorkish curiosity. As I'm sure you know, I'm a vampire—"

"NO SHIT! Hermione wouldn't shut up about how positively wicked vampires' powers are, as if I didn't know that already. But that's not fair! You're not supposed to be a vampire! Now it can't be my favorite magical creature anymore," Harry muttered.

Draco was about to make another ambiguous comment about being Harry's favorite creature _anytime_ when his vampire senses told him something was horribly wrong. He had not paid attention to his surroundings because of the unexpected arrival of the Gryffindor. He was now able to sense hundreds of creatures slowly crawling towards the center of the clearing. Wait a minute. That's exactly where he and Potter were standing.

He quickly summed up their situation.

"Fuck."

oOoOo

_**Author's Nonsense:**__ I hope people are still reading: this is taking quite a long time to get started, but I promise things will get more interesting. Chapter 4 is coming! _

_I would also like to thank Ash of Mine, my wonderful beta. Everyone should have a good beta. __That was the deep thought of the day._


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling; I own the ridiculous plot.

**Warning:** SLASH, LANGUAGE, OOC-NESS. This story disregards OotP, HBP and DH, which basically translates into: "lalala I can't hear you, all the characters I like are still alive."

**Pairings:** DM/HP, RW/HG, SS/SB, RL/NT

**Summary: **_He could have been anything. A Goblin. An Orc. A Mountain Troll. Hell, he could have been the King of Dwarves, for all Harry cared. But NO, of all the magical creatures, Draco Malfoy had to be a vampire.__ 7th year at Hogwarts._

_**A/N: THANK YOU EVERYONE! THANK YOU ASH! Santa went all bossy on me and threatened to hide all of my Christmas presents if I didn't start writing an OS in French soon... T_T Man, I hate Christmas.**_

oOoOo

"Potter?"

"What, _now_?"

"I hope you're in the mood for some fighting."

"Huh? Seriously, Malfoy, can't you think about anything besides beating people up at such an ungodly hour?" Harry said, yawning widely.

"You're one to talk, midget. Who was yelling like a madman not two minutes ago? Let me rephrase that: are you ready to defend your pathetic life against what seems to be the biggest party of giant spiders ever seen?"

Harry blinked. Fuck! He had totally forgotten the bloody spiders!

"Fuck! I had totally forgotten the bloody spiders!—hey! I'm not a midget!"

Malfoys don't gape so Draco just looked pointedly at the smaller boy.

"_What_?" Harry asked, squirming under the blonde's scrutiny.

"Potter." Draco finally spoke, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I won't even bother to ask _how_ you knew there were hundreds of giant spiders in the Forbidden Forest," he started. "The thing I would like to ask is, you _knew_ there were hundreds of giant spiders in the Forbidden Forest and you _followed me there_? ARE YOU DAFT?"

As Harry opened his mouth to reply, he was interrupted by the vampire.

"No. Don't bother. How could I forget for even one second that the very notion of 'daft' is part of the whole 'Gryffindor' concept," he sighed.

"Hey!" Harry exclaimed indignantly.

While they were arguing, they had been forced to take step after step backwards until they stood back to back in the center of the clearing. The spiders were now crawling towards them from behind the trees, revealed by the bright moonlight that was pouring down on them.

"Eww, spiders are just gross," Draco declared, scrunching up his face at the sight of the creepily moving mass of hairy legs.

"You don't say," Harry sniffed. "Yet I think I prefer them when they're, let's say, a tad bit smaller."

Draco gave him a surprised look at the sarcastic comment. Since when did the goody goody Boy-Who-Lived know that irony was not some obscure science by which you flattened your clothes? He would have to think about that later; an especially ugly spider which was even taller than his monstrous peers had crawled forward to stand in front of him, its numerous and obviously blind eyes all blinking together. Ew.

"What do we have here?" Aragog's raspy voice echoed in the clearing.

"Salazar's socks, it SPEAKS!" Draco made a face. He turned slightly to the right, in order for his nemesis-turned-momentarily-into-an-ally to hear his words. "Yuck. Those things are positively ugly _and_ they don't have any manners at all, not even introducing themselves," he tut-tutted. "Potter, remind me to squish the next spider that'll cross my path," he added.

"I'd be glad to," the smaller boy agreed, drawing his wand. The spiders were now standing thirty feet away from the two wizards which sight would have made any Hufflepuff girl positively squeal in delight: the Savior of the Wizarding World and his small 5 feet 4 inches back to back with the Slytherin Ice Prince towering at a good 6 feet 2 inches.

Draco looked the monstrous spider up and down. "Honestly, guys, you really should go easy on the soup. Your mommy might have kept telling you it makes children grow up, but you didn't have to eat it at each meal ever since," he pointed out.

"In that case you must have wanted to please your mommy for a little too long as well, you overgrown vampire-freak!" Harry mumbled.

"Hem," Aragog coughed not so discreetly.

"Aww, is ickle Harrykins jealous again?" Draco smirked.

"SHUT UP, I'm not jealous you self-absorbed twat!" Harry shouted angrily.

"Ahem—gentlemen?" Aragog tried and failed miserably to get the attention of his two preys.

"Well, some of us here should actually try to have soup once in their life," Draco said smugly.

"That's just rubbish! I could eat a whole cauldron and it wouldn't make any difference! I'm not small, I'm delicate, which can't be said about a great big sucker like—"

"ENOUGH!" Aragog exploded, his shout echoing in the clearing, making a good part of the Forest's winged population fly away in fear.

"See, I told you. No manners at all," Draco snorted.

"I SAID SHUT _UP!_" Aragog yelled again.

"Excuse me, but actually you said 'enough'," Harry supplied helpfully.

"—and he's got an early case of Alzheimer's," Draco sighed, shaking his head.

Aragog was about to have a heart attack. How dare those pathetic excuses for a meal insult him and his family? It was about time he regained some of his legendary patience and showed who was in control. He might as well play with his food before eating it, despite all of his mother's teachings. Err. Nothing to do with the soup thing.

"Do you know what we do to Dark creatures like you?" he asked the vampire silkily.

A pause. Then—

"Bwahahaha!" was all Draco could say, laughing so hard he had tears of mirth in his eyes.

"Not that I usually agree with the git, but really, that's the proverbial pot calling the kettle black. I mean, please; take a good look at yourself. But don't come too close to the mirror. The poor thing might not be able to endure something like that," Harry said, not even turning around to look at Aragog. Then he paused, as if a thought had occurred to him. "Oh. Wait. Were you trying to sound threatening?"

Aragog was about to snap at the cheeky boy, when he realized he knew that second smell.

"You're the one that came here to ask annoying questions about our Sworn Enemy!"

It took only a few seconds for Draco to make the connection with the Basilisk; he did a quick mental calculation.

"Wow! That was five years ago. Not bad for an old fogey like you," the vampire commented, pretending to look impressed.

Harry snorted. "The big bad spider wouldn't let Ron and I go back to the castle, and he couldn't even answer a simple question in the first place. I wonder if he's compensating for the size of his brain with the ridiculous number of his eyes—" he trailed off with a thoughtful look.

"And don't forget the number of legs. But on the other hand, moving a limb requires a lot of coordination from the brain. Eight legs to drag, imagine that! Plus the fact that he can talk and come up with ridiculous ideas such as attacking us. Should your theory be true, then his brain must be seriously messed up," Draco gave a suspicious look at the area above the numerous misty eyes, as if expecting this particular spot to explode any minute now.

"Or", Harry tried again, "He is aware of the poor size of his brain and is trying to produce as many 'children' as possible, hoping that for the thousand gazillions of dimwits he'll produce, there'll be a chance that one of them might be a genius. I always thought relying on statistics was useless. Takes too much time."

Aragog lost his last shreds of patience. To hell with playing; the only way to make meatbags shut their mouths was to eat them and eat them _right now_.

"ATTACK!" Aragog yelled in a very anticlimactic way. At his signal, a dozen huge spiders crawled to Harry's side while Aragog himself attacked the vampire.

Harry alternately stunned, kicked and dived each time a spider drew near. Draco was gracefully dodging Aragog's huge hairy legs that were trying to strike him. The arachnid was already salivating at the idea of such a delicious creature; and that's when things started to get out of hand.

"EWWWW!" Everybody stopped fighting at Draco's disgusted shriek. Harry's heart missed a beat—wait, what? Why was he scared that Malfoy might get injured? Or maybe the reason why his heart was doing weird flip-flops was because the Boy-Who-Lived was currently being held upside down by a spider trying to chew his arms. Who knows.

From his precarious position, Harry craned his neck to check on the blonde. Snape would definitely chop Harry's body into all kinds of potion ingredients if he were to let his godson be devoured like that.

Aragog and Draco stood facing each other in the now dead silent clearing, hundreds of eyes set on the two of them.

They squinted at each other, waiting for one of them to dare to move. You could almost see the dust flying around, a bush bouncing away, and hear the deadly notes of harmonica in the back.

"There's one creature too many in this Forest—" Aragog started with a horrible country accent. He idly wondered what he would look like in four pairs of Western boots. The silence stretched between them until Draco narrowed his eyes at the spider.

"How dare you drool on my new robes, you slimy bastard!" Draco yelled, looking murderous. He then tossed his wand behind his shoulder and lounged at the offensive creature in a very un-Malfoyish way, his vampire magic swirling around him in an angry, silvery storm. With inhuman grace and speed, he managed to dodge and leap out of the way of his opponent's legs and claws, using his magic in turn as a shield and as a sword.

Meanwhile, Harry had resumed his struggle against the spider trying to swallow him. Still dangling upside down, he waited until he was close enough to the stinky mouth, jerked away from it and reached upwards to free his feet—thank Merlin for things like abs and Quidditch training. Some time during the process, he managed to viciously kick the monster in what he supposed was the jaws. This took the spider completely by surprise; it let go of him at once. Harry cried out in pain as he crashed on the ground. He checked that he had nothing more than a few bruises; he was a bit dazed but he quickly got back on his feet, seeing another spider crawl towards him.

Unfortunately, this had distracted Draco for a few precious seconds during which Aragog gave a nasty blow to the blonde's head, knocking him against a nearby tree. Harry watched the scene unfold painfully slowly from where he was standing. Without thinking, he kicked the spider he had been fighting and threw himself on the ground next to a motionless Draco. As he saw the vampire's bleeding forehead resting against the tree trunk, he felt something snap inside of him.

The voice from his dream echoed in his head, chanting soft words that Harry would recall later as some kind of Elvish language—of course those meddling, pointy-eared fools would have something to do with this.

Draco never saw the way Harry's eyes shifted briefly from bright green to pure silver. An overwhelming wave of powerful magic sent all of the spiders flying quite ridiculously in all directions. Aragog, who was the only remaining spider in the clearing, watched dumbfounded as his children, eyes huge, were thrown into the air like so many fluffy, stuffed animals by one angry-looking, tiny little wizard.

Said wizard, finally satisfied with the mess he had created, zeroed in on a very worried Aragog. The poor arachnid had thought—and who could blame him, really?—that the main threat had consisted in the powerful vampire who had insulted him earlier. But now, watching the silver sparks fly around what looked like a very pissed kind of super powerful freak, Aragog was not so sure anymore.

Gulp.

"YOU SON OF A HAIRY EIGHT-LEGGED BITCH!" Harry roared, sounding every bit the lion of his House. "I'M THE ONLY ONE ALLOWED TO BEAT MALFOY TO A BLOODY PULP!"

Harry grabbed the astonished Aragog by a non-existent collar and began shaking him like there was no tomorrow. Given their respective sizes, you could say it was quite a sight.

"He's mine, you drooling freak! Pathetic bundle of useless hair! You hear that? _Mine_!"

"I'm s-s-sorry I d-didn't know—" the groggy spider tried.

Enraged that his prey might even think he could say another word in his presence, Harry went on knocking some sense into the spider—literally. He grabbed the whimpering creature again and banged its ugly head against the nearest tree to punctuate each word:

"You—BANG!"

"Won't—BANG!"

"Touch—BANG!"

"Him—BANG!"

"Again!"

One final 'bang' was heard before Harry dropped the now very battered spider to the ground, leaving it in a crumpled heap of randomly sticking out legs.

"Now go knot your legs together somewhere else before I change my mind and do it myself!" Harry bellowed for good measure. Aragog squeaked in a very un-gigantic-spider-like manner and scurried away into the Forest, mentally taking note to never, ever again piss off that particular, deceptively small wizard. Once Aragog was out of sight, Harry went back to kneel beside Draco, whose eyes had just fluttered open. He winced when he tried to stand up too quickly.

"Careful, Malfoy. You're bleeding," Harry said tiredly, completely drained after the wave of magic had slowly returned to wherever it had come from.

Draco reached for his forehead and indeed, his hand came back with some blood on it.

The green eyed boy didn't even think twice before applying his small hand over Draco's wound, pouring the last remnants of the powerful magic into it. The wound closed up immediately, leaving no trace of the cut on the pale skin. Harry wordlessly gave back his wand to the vampire. He started walking back to the castle when he sensed he was not being followed. He turned around.

When Draco looked expectantly into the Gryffindor's eyes, Harry thought he couldn't face another snide remark if he told him what had happened. He waved it off tiredly. Draco seemed to understand and remained silent. Both started walking back to the castle.

Harry was still thinking of the fight; what a joyous mess it had been. How could he explain anything when he wasn't even sure he had understood what had happened to him? Sure, if he were honest with himself, he could admit he had one hell of a temper. But getting all worked up over _Malfoy_? And where had this incredible magic come from? He knew he was a strong wizard and he had recognized some of his own strength in the wave, but it was mixed with some other magic he had not recognized. And why did he hear those voices? Great. Now he sounded like bloody Joan of Arc. For a few moments, Harry smirked at the ridiculous thought, but then he realized Dra–_Malfoy_ was looking at him strangely.

"You alright, Malfoy?" he slurred, his previous sleepiness coming back with a vengeance.

"Yes I am, but look at yourself, midget, you're barely standing upright," Draco pointed out, wondering why his rival looked like he would all but fall to the ground if Draco breathed too hard.

"I'm 'kay, just wanna sleep," Harry struggled to speak clearly. What was wrong with him? He had never felt this tired in his whole life, and that meant quite a lot after all he had been through. Draco barely hesitated. "Thanks for your help. Next time I want to see what kind of creatures I could feed from, I'll make sure to stay away from giant spiders. Or I could bring you along as a guard dog," he added, watching for any kind of reaction from a decidedly too subdued Harry.

When the latter didn't even protest, Draco frowned. This was not good. What had he missed? Something had changed in the Boy-Who-Lived: it was obvious by his looks, but Draco sensed there was more to it than that. They kept walking silently for a while, both deep in thought, barely registering the fact that they were walking side by side without even snarling at each other. They went back to the main track, guided by the glowing moonlight seeping through the trees' thick foliage. At last, they emerged from the Forest. They were on the familiar path leading to the castle when a thought occurred to Harry.

"You haven't fed, back in the Forest. Is that OK?" he asked, not quite managing to hide the hint of worry in his voice. Draco threw a quick look at the boy next to him.

"It's alright, I don't need to feed everyday, just once a week. I was merely exploring," he explained, his expression never faltering. Inwardly, he was stunned: for the second time that evening, Potter had been worried for him. Not that he wasn't pleased with this new development, but still.

"That's weird. I always thought vampires needed to feed everyday. I should have thrown out all those stupid Muggle books ages ago. They keep writing crazy stuff when they don't even know a thing about the subject," he muttered. Draco raised a brow at this, but did not start anything, merely glad to agree with the Gryffindor.

"Indeed," Draco chuckled. "We're not afraid of garlic. The only thing repulsive about it would be the same as it is for everyone who eats it: Dragon Breath of Doom. Sunlight is not a problem either, although we're not really fond of it. And we do _not _change into overgrown bats," he explained.

"Yeah, that would be Snape," Harry mumbled. Draco smirked.

"I can't blame you for not liking my godfather, what with the way he tortures you in class, but he's not that bad once you get to know him."

"Yeah, right," Harry said between clenched teeth.

The rest of the walk to the castle was silent. No one, not even Filch or Mrs. Norris was there to see the two wizards walking side by side through the corridors. When they arrived at the stairs leading to their respective dorms, they finally stopped.

"Well," Draco said, "That was interesting. See you tomorrow, midget."

"Whatever, you overgrown freak," Harry said yawning. He turned and started to climb up the stairs with great difficulty.

He never saw the thoughtful expression on Draco's face.

Interesting indeed.

oOoOo

_**Author's Nonsense:**__ I would like to thank all of you people who hang on out there and keep reading despite the utter lack of action in these first chapters. Oh and special thanks to you, fragonknight01. Talking with you is so much fun! Even if I seem to talk as much as three persons. Haha. Hem. Nevermind._


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling; I own the ridiculous plot.

**Warning**: SLASH, LANGUAGE, OOC-NESS. This story disregards OotP, HBP and DH, which basically translates into: "lalala I can't hear you, all the characters I like are still alive."

**Pairings:** DM/HP, RW/HG, SS/SB, RL/NT

**Summary: **_He could have been anything. A Goblin. An Orc. A Mountain Troll. Hell, he could have been the King of Dwarves, for all Harry cared. But NO, of all the magical creatures, Draco Malfoy had to be a vampire.__ 7th year at Hogwarts._

_**A/N: **__AHAAA! This time I intend to be overly enthusiastic about writing an author's note! Another week gone and I'm still alive! Too bad for the rest of the world. Anyway, I was saying I'd leave a long author's note. Who said it had to be interesting? Um. Right. So, a huge __**THANK YOU**__ to my reviewers. You guys rock my world! I hope you'll like this chapter. And the next one. And the next one. Right. I think you got the (not so) subliminal message._

oOoOo

A week after the incident with the giant spiders, Harry had finally managed to squash down the last remnants of his worries about a certain blond vampire. He refused to remember that they had talked amiably without even trying to jump at each other's throat—

_Nonono! Not __that __way!_ he yelled at his raging hormones. Oh, crap. This was all Sirius' fault, anyway.

oOoOo

_Earlier that day_—

"BARK!"

Harry was having a very pleasant dream, but of course, something had to come and disturb his sleep. So once again, he was unable to remember what it had been about. To hell with class, he didn't want to get up just yet. Or today. Or this week.

"BARK! BARK!"

What was that? It sounded vaguely familiar, but Harry was so sleepy that he just rolled on his side and decided that trying to remember his dream sounded by far like the smartest thing to do right now. He was slowly going back to sleep when a huge black mass landed heavily on him, having decided it was high time _someone_ woke up.

"Ooooof!" Harry deflated like a balloon.

"BARK!" the fluffy dark mass said proudly.

"HmfrrblPadfoot?" mumbled a still very groggy Harry Potter. And no, he was not a morning person. "Go'way," the boy mumbled and flopped back down on his mattress, not quite realizing that his godfather was not supposed to be in his room. Then it finally dawned on him; he sat up quickly and squinted at the huge black dog on his bed. No, he was not as blind as a bat—just thinking that he might have something in common with his hated Potions Professor made him gag—he was just _near-sighted_. Period.

Padfoot barked happily again and licked his favorite cub's nose, leaving a lovely trail of drool across Harry's face. Which finally got a reaction.

"EWW! SIRIUS ORION BLACK! Get your flee-bitten ass over here! I will kick you so hard people will think there's a new breed of flying dogs around here!" Harry yelled in the dorm, running after his dear godfather like an enraged bull.

"This does look and sound awfully familiar," Dean mentioned distractedly while retrieving his sock from under his bed. Why were socks always under beds, anyway?

"D'ya think we should come up with a new method of Harry-Waking next week? It'd be unfair if we didn't get a shot at it," Seamus grumbled, struggling with his shoelaces. Neville was the only one who thought to ask what everybody should be wondering about.

"Why is Padfoot here? Isn't he supposed to be somewhere on a mission since he's back on the Auror team?"

It had been considerable news in the Daily Prophet when Sirius Black's name had been cleared, which had prompted the headmaster of Hogwarts to announce that a huge party would be thrown in Sirius' honor, with tons of Lemon Drops. At which everybody had hastily explained that they had to go to their hamster's burial, had a tea kettle on the stove, or had _completely_ forgotten that they had a very important meeting on the other side of the planet.

And so, Sirius Black had gotten his vaults and properties back. Not that it seemed to matter all that much to him given that the first thing he did was waltz into Harry's Potions class and crush his godson in a bear hug. He then proceeded to tell him about the excellent news: how he was free, how he could take back his job as an Auror and how Harry could now live with him as they had planned to.

Overwhelmed with joy, Harry had remained speechless. After bouncing all around, Sirius had waltzed out in the same crazed manner, but not before hugging everybody in the room, including Snape—who had gone very pale, then very red and had finally settled on a nice shade of purple. By the time he had recovered enough to explode at his old nemesis' antics, the latter had been out for at least five minutes. And so, after the visit of an ex-convict and a demonstration of the awful temper of the Potions professor, it goes without saying that the rest of the class had been very, _very _quiet.

Hence Neville's relevant question. Why indeed was Sirius here?

Padfoot bounced from bed to bed, tongue lolling, followed by a very awake but now very pissed Godson-Who-Lived. After a mad race around the room—"I think it's rather healthy," said a grinning Ron—Padfoot managed to trick Harry into entering the bathroom and sprang out of the way. Then the dog kicked the door shut with a single paw and heavily leant on it before changing back to his human form.

"That, my friend, is a very relevant question indeed," Sirius finally answered, dusting imaginary dirt from his midnight blue robes. He turned to the door and locked it with a spell. "Harry, while you're in there, why don't you shower and get ready for—what time is it, anyway? Lunch, right. See, I feel very generous today: I thought I'd wake you up at eleven instead of five in the morning like I did last time. Besides, it wouldn't have been nice to your roommates."

A very impressive 'AAAAAARGH' came from the door.

"I'm waiting for you to get out of here showered and clean so that I can explain the reason for my staying at Hogwarts _for a while_."

Silence. Then a distinct "Oh God" followed by a loud 'thunk' was heard from behind the door.

In the bathroom, Harry banged his head again for good measure. He wouldn't be able to sleep _for a while_ then.

"A while?" Seamus asked, sounding definitely interested at the prospect of learning exciting pranks.

"Yup. C'mon, Harry, everybody's waiting for you."

A few minutes later, Harry emerged from the bathroom, still annoyed at his godfather for the unwanted exercise on a Sunday morning.

"So what's the news? Now spill!" Harry lounged at Sirius, and tickled him until the elder man begged for forgiveness.

Cold revenge _was _a Slytherin trait, but Harry had long accepted the fact that he would have done quite brilliantly in the Snakes' House. Sometimes, he cursed his own Hero-complex. Ron and Hermione had known long before him that he could be terribly sneaky when he wanted to. It had only been a matter of time before he acknowledged his calculating side, hidden behind his hot temperament. Besides, he knew he wasn't one to show his feelings. Well. Except when he was in one of his 'Gryffindor' moods, which was way too often for his own taste. Even Malfoy had perfectly understood that when taunted the right way, Harry lost his temper in a very spectacular manner. Harry could probably write a brilliant essay on the advantages and drawbacks of being a Gryffinrin. Or Slytherdor. Whatever.

Sirius caught his breath and started to speak.

"All of you know that I've been tracking down the last remnants of Phoneymort's followers. Minister Scrimgeour has confirmed that we have managed to severely reduce their numbers; however, headmaster Dumbledore suspects that something is going on here at Hogwarts. There's this rumor about some Neo-Death-Eater-Generation trying to recruit youngsters at schools so he asked for an Auror to be sent here to investigate. So here I am, pretending to help Snape with his Potions class because it seems that the first years are a bit of a challenge," the Animagus grinned. "I'm letting you know this, but it's a secret. I want you to promise you won't tell a soul about it," he added sternly. The boys didn't need to be told twice to swear a magical oath; Death Eater business must not be taken lightly.

Seamus threw a starry-eyed glance at Sirius. "So you're here for the duration of the investigation, right? That's so cool! Let's see how many Slytherins we can prank this year," the Irish boy cackled, rubbing his hands gleefully. Dean and Ron nodded eagerly, looking just as evil.

"Geez, can't you just leave them alone, for once?" Harry sighed, annoyed. As soon as his words had left his mouth, he knew he'd said the wrong thing. The other boys were looking at him as if he'd suddenly grown another head. Sirius kept quiet, a knowing look in his water clear blue eyes.

"By the way, Harrykins, it seems you're having—_interesting_ dreams," Sirius trailed off.

Oh God. Harry sensed the danger, even though he did not know the reason yet. "Sweet Merlin! Have you guys seen the time? You should go down to the Great Hall. I'm sure you're all _starving_." He threw a nasty look at Neville, who had started opening his mouth to say that he was not all that hungry, actually. Seamus was looking at Harry with a raised brow and a smirk while Dean and Ron frowned, not getting the most probable meaning of the 'interesting' dream.

"You're right, Harry. We're definitely going down to eat," Seamus said lightly, dragging an astonished Neville out of the room, followed by Ron and Dean, who seemed to realize something was off. As soon as the door was closed, Harry put up a silencing ward. He then turned to face his godfather.

"What have I said?" Harry asked without preamble. All he remembered was that it had been a nice dream. He was certain it had been nothing as extreme as a wet dream. So what was the catch, this time? Sirius laughed at his godson's antics, though he knew Harry was worrying with good reason.

"Sooooo," the tall ex-convict started. "Think my cousin is attractive, do you?" he asked with knowing eyes. Harry was relieved. "If you're saying that I think Nymphadora is attractive, then I'm glad to tell there's not one ounce of truth in that, no offence, really. You should ask Remus, though. He's getting ridiculously pink whenever she's around. Not exactly scary for a werewolf, by the way."

"Aaaah, but who said I was talking about Tonks?" Sirius said with a nasty smile that looked dangerously like Snape's trademark one. "Though it's nice to know I'll finally be able to get Nymph' and Moony together. Even if her cheeks match her pink hair whenever he's around, it's not as funny as it was in the beginning, when they were sputtering and avoiding each other's eyes like a bunch of Hufflepuffs," he said to himself.

"Huh? But then who—"

"I really ought to visit Cissa and my cute cousin sometime. I loved the grand way she kicked out her useless shoe-licker of a husband," he said smugly.

"'Cissa'? As in 'Narcissa Mal—' Harry started before stopping right in his tracks. "MERLIN'S BALLS! Are you implying that I find Draco Malfoy _attractive_?" Harry exploded in one of his 'I'm-a righteous-Gryffindor' fits.

"I am not implying; I'm making a statement here," Sirius stressed, enjoying every minute of it.

"And based on _what_, pray tell?" Harry fumed.

"Harry," Sirius said sounding, well, 'serious', "You know that you were not having a wet dream about Draco." Harry blushed a deep red and mumbled something about there being no need to have 'the talk' all over again. Sirius continued all the same. "I heard you this morning. I was next to your bed while you were sleep-talking. What you do have to realize is that you looked terribly _happy _while pronouncing his name. Ron and Hermione told me they haven't even seen you laugh much since last year."

"But that's not—" Harry started to protest but he was interrupted.

"Yes, I know you were happy when I was freed. But what you have to understand is that it's not the same kind of happiness," he explained with a sad smile. But it soon vanished to let a smug look creep on his face. "Besides, it's a Black family trait: we are devilishly, helplessly handsome." He let out a joyous bark of laughter when he looked at Harry, who was currently sputtering all over the place.

"I am so _not _attracted to that evil git, devilishly handsome or not!" Harry pouted. "And you don't have anything to say about the subject, since you wouldn't even tell _Sna-_"

Sirius quickly covered his godson's mouth with his hand. "How the bloody buggering hell do you even know about that?" he asked, eyes bright with fear that anybody should hear despite Harry's spells.

Harry just wriggled his brows and smirked. "When there's material for blackmail, let's say I'm being cautious enough to actually take it."

"You stop right there! Who are you and what have you done with Harry Potter?" Sirius asked in mock fright. He too had realized that not only had his godson inherited his father's mischievous habits, but he seemed to have developed a cunning side as well. After all, very few people knew that Lily came from a very old and powerful pureblood family, but had been adopted by Muggles after her parents' death. Speaking of family inheritance—

"Harry, have you gone under any changes since last summer?" Sirius asked nonchalantly.

Harry rolled his eyes. "I already told you that I won't change at all. Sure, Mum's family was weird enough to mate with bloody Elves, but those belonged in the Forest. Even though I have some of their blood, they are different from the High Elves and their blond hair, dreamy blue eyes and all. I do have creepy green eyes and a smaller build so I look like the part, but that's where the resemblance stops," Harry argued, convinced that he was right.

Sirius had a speculative look. "Yes, I know about your physical appearance, but haven't you heard or seen anything recently that could be related to their magic?" he asked.

Harry suddenly recalled the weird voices in his head just a week ago. "No," he lied smoothly, though his Gryffindor conscience—sounding disturbingly like Mini-White Harry—was screaming at him. He didn't want Sirius to worry about him having a dumb cru—um, obsess—erm—about him thinking _anything_ about Malfoy. There.

Sirius looked relieved. "Alright, cub. I have to go and help Snape remove some melted cauldrons right now." He pointedly ignored Harry's smirk. "I'll be eating later so don't wait for me," he said with as much dignity as he could muster. He ruffled his godson's hair and disappeared through the door. Harry sighed.

"That slimy git doesn't deserve you. And he hates your guts. Couldn't you choose someone more accessible, for Merlin's sake?" Harry muttered to the closed door.

oOoOo

Harry had finally left the Tower to join his peers in the Great Hall. Sirius was obviously messed up in the head if he thought Harry was happy being anywhere near Malfoy. Proof of said madness was the fact that the Animagus fancied a certain Potions Master. If that wasn't convincing enough, really, what was?

Harry opened the door to the Great Hall, forcing himself not to look at the Slytherins' table. He hadn't talked to Malfoy since the incident in the Forest and planned for things to stay that way. What would they talk about, anyway? Harry ignored the nasty voice in the back of his head saying that they had _lots_ of things in common. Starting with a severe trauma where girls were concerned. Blocking his thoughts on the matter, Harry headed for the Gryffindor table and sat down next to Ron and Hermione who were arguing over some petty thing or another. Harry sighed. _Here we go again._

"You are so NOT writing to that Bulgarian douchebag!" Ron was yelling. His face was so red one couldn't tell where his hair began.

"Ronald Bilius Weasley! You have absolutely no right to tell me what to do!" Hermione retorted, cheeks flushed as well.

This was becoming a habit. At very random moments, like during meals or between classes or in Hogsmeade, the two of them would fight over such topics. This was one of their favorite, though.

"I swear I'm gonna burn those bloody letters! Don't you see he's trying to use you?" Ron was saying.

"Oooh, that was lame! Look at who's talking here!" Hermione growled back. There was so much sexual tension in the air that Harry almost had to swim his way through the pheromones. He sighed again. _Note to self: get 'Mione and Ron to shag._

Tuning out his friends' ridiculous banter, he turned to look at the Slytherin table. He shouldn't have, really.

Draco Malfoy was sitting there, eyebrow raised at the Gryffindors' antics. He soon had to focus back on his on table though, as Theodore Nott had just sat down on his right side, while Pansy Parkinson—the HORROR—had squeezed down to his left, the two of them effectively sandwiching the Malfoy Heir. Theodore and Pansy threw each other a nasty look behind Draco's back, silently challenging the other. Theodore made the first move by taking Draco's hand in his.

"You really have grown up into a _very_ nice-looking young man, Draco," he purred.

Seeing the treacherous approach, Pansy counter-attacked by covering Draco's knee with her hand.

"Pity he doesn't swing _that_ way," she said contemptuously while batting her lashes and showing some non-existent cleavage to a sweat-dropping Draco.

_Cold, Malfoys stay cold and unfeeling, even in the worst of situations_, Draco inwardly repeated to himself like a mantra, his mask firmly in place despite the seriousness of the situation.

Pansy's hand was travelling dangerously high on his left thigh. He was about to gag. Give him hundreds of spiders again, he promised he wouldn't be lamely distracted like last time—

Pansy's fingers travelled to his fly.

_PLEASE, SOMEONE HEEEELP!_ his mind shouted.

Meanwhile, at the other end of the Great Hall, Harry had quickly averted his gaze from the Slytherin table. It wasn't his business if Drac–_Malfoy_ was currently being molested by two of his housemates. Nope. Not at all. Yet, he had to struggle with himself to refrain from crossing the Hall and ripping the two teenagers to tiny Slytherin bits. In spite of all his efforts, he had the growing sensation that something was going to happen. Something he didn't want to happen. But it did.

-TUG!-

Harry was suddenly propelled forward across the Great Hall, as if an invisible rope were dragging him there.

The pull stopped as abruptly as it had started, as he staggered in front of a now very still Slytherin table. He stood there unmoving for a few seconds. Theodore Nott was about to throw some nasty insult at the goody-goody Gryffindork when he saw something disturbing in the other boy's stance: Harry had his head bowed. Long black locks had fallen before the Gryffindor's eyes, hiding them in a rather frightening fashion. A silvery, swirling mist of power was slowly gathering around him. Sensing the danger, Theodore kept a cautious silence, withdrawing his hand from where it had been clutching Draco's. He muttered something about forgetting his homework and beat a hasty retreat out of the Great Hall. A slow smirk appeared on Harry's features.

Worried about their friend, Hermione and Ron had walked over to where Harry was now standing. Ignoring them, the raven-haired boy finally lifted his head, revealing his bright eyes now flashing a dangerous Avada Kedavra green. Draco was mesmerized.

Pansy, however, had not paid the slightest attention to the Gryffindor's strange behavior.

"What do you want, Potty? Go back to your table, you freak! Drakie and I have _lots_ of things to tell each other so sod off!" she screeched, sounding remarkably similar to a harpy.

Harry slowly turned to face her fully. He looked way too calm.

"I said leave my Draco and I alone!" the Slytherin girl shrieked again.

The magic that had been building up suddenly exploded, freed from its invisible cage. Harry's eyes shifted briefly from emerald to silver. Draco gave a start. What the heck—?

The Great Hall was eerily silent now. Everyone—including all the professors and the headmaster—was listening intently as the Boy-Who-Lived spoke.

"Parkinson." Harry's voice was so cold that the nearest Slytherin's teeth started chattering. "You will remove your disgusting hand and no less disgusting person from their current location."

"Or what?" Pansy tried, though she was trembling hard by now.

Harry sneered at her in a disturbingly Slytherin-like manner. "Or no one will ever be able to find out what curses I used after finding your body. That is, if there is a body left to find," he added quietly. His tone would have sent an iceberg crying for its mommy. Pansy's eyes widened. She felt a power in her head urging her to _let go_ of Draco and never touch him again. Her instincts were screaming at her to comply, too happy to get a chance to flee and stay alive. And so she did, dashing out of the Great Hall, terrified by this scary, inhuman Potter.

As soon as she disappeared behind the doors, Harry snapped out of his weird trance, the magic curling itself back inside his body. He realized with a nasty shock what he had just done. His eyes widened when he looked into astonished silver eyes. He finally did what his shocked instincts were screaming at him: he turned on his heels and fled the Great Hall.

Which left: a twinkling Dumby; a badly shocked Snape; a gaping Ron; a thoughtful Hermione.

The rest of the Great Hall did not look any better. The Gryffindor table was horrified; the Slytherins were blinking; the Ravenclaws were still trying to process what had just happened and the Hufflepuffs were looking suspiciously dreamy.

As for Draco, he was thinking about the scary wrath of his favorite Gryffindor—

That had to be the _sexiest_ thing he had ever seen.

oOoOo


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling; I own the ridiculous plot.

**Warning:** SLASH, LANGUAGE, OOC-NESS. This story disregards OotP, HBP and DH, which basically translates into: "lalala I can't hear you, all the characters I like are still alive."

**Pairings:** DM/HP, RW/HG, SS/SB, RL/NT

**Summary: **_He could have been anything. A Goblin. An Orc. A Mountain Troll. Hell, he could have been the King of Dwarves, for all Harry cared. But NO, of all the magical creatures, Draco Malfoy had to be a vampire.__ 7th year at Hogwarts._

_**A/N: Thank you, Super-Beta Ash of Mine!**_

oOoOo

Refusing to think about what he had just done in the Great Hall, Harry Potter fled. He ran and ran, cursing his words. What the hell had that been all about? Really, what was he thinking when he defended Draco Malfoy, of all people? He had been dragged to the Slytherin table and—

Wait.

At first, he had been slightly annoyed at Nott and Parkinson_—_OK. Screw that. He had been downright pissed at their blatant flirting with the vampire. He had felt a strange fear crawling in his mind but somehow, he had known it was not his own. He also vaguely recalled a faraway voice, a cry for help. And then he had felt some kind of brutal power, and there was this creepy tug; at that moment, he had still been there, in control of his mind and words. Harry remembered how very pleased he'd been with Nott's reaction. One down even before he had to lay down his claim_—_

Wait, what? Where had _that_ come from? His 'claim'? What claim? Merlin, he was sounding like some desperate Veela. No way! Surely, this was another nightmare? The scariest one he'd had since the one featuring Voldie and Lucius Malfoy in pink thongs, sure, but a nightmare nonetheless. Who knew Voldemort would stoop so low as to send Harry such an inhuman nightmare? Right, nightmares were not supposed to be pleasant. Harry shuddered at the memory. So, yes, a nightmare. He was so _not _defending Malfoy in reality. Harry hesitated briefly before pinching his arm hard.

"Ow!" his nerves screamed bloody murder. Hell. No, there had to be something else. A curse, maybe? Like a sickness, possessing his mind and body, influencing his thoughts and actions. Yes, he needed to be checked for a curse. Harry kept running, but this time his goal was not to put as much distance as possible between him and the Great Hall: he bolted to the infirmary and banged the door open. The loud crash made Madam Pomfrey jump into the air.

"Mr. Potter?" she frowned. "Wha—"

Harry was frantic. "Madam Pomfrey! ''I just did something really weird and I think I've been cursed, 'cause there's just no way I'd even _think_ of doing that and yet I did it and I can't believe—"

"Mr. Potter, would you please calm down," the stern woman frowned.

Harry realized he had been rambling. He stopped at once, a faint blush staining his cheeks.

"Good. Now breathe, will you?"

The Gryffindor took a deep breath, trying to organize his thoughts.

"Right. Now, tell me slowly what happened," she said patiently, sitting down at her desk and motioning for Harry to do the same. He sank down in the chair, trying to find words to describe his predicament without sounding deranged. Quite the challenge.

"I need you to check if I am currently under any kind of spell, curse, or anything that might force me to do things I would never usually do."

There. No need to explain why he thought he was under a curse. He was not lying, mind you; just omitting a few details about the truth. Madam Pomfrey could tell he was hiding something, but since time could be a key factor when dealing with a curse, she did not push the matter any further and set about casting several detection spells. Remembering Harry's second year, she asked worriedly: "You have not acquired any dangerous artifact, have you?"

"No. I think it's just some kind of spell, because I can feel it working in my mind. The weird thing is, it's as if I were just a witness and while the curse is active I'm still aware of what I'm saying, but it just _doesn't seem wrong_ to me at the time. But once the curse stops, I can't believe I could even think what I thought then." By the end of his explanation, Madam Pomfrey was looking at him in a very suspicious manner.

"Mr. Potter. Is there something you need to tell me?"

"Huh? Um—no?" he tried with a nervous chuckle.

"Why did that sound like a question?" she accused.

"Er—so you're sure I'm not under any sort of curse, right? I'm not ill or anything? I'll have to check for dark artifacts that Dear Voldie might have left for me, then—"

Madam Pomfrey was buying none of it. She was already edging towards the fireplace.

"It's alright!" Harry started to panick. He did not want to face the—

"Headmaster!" Madam Pomfrey said, looking relieved as she saw the very person she was about to call waltz into her infirmary.

—there went the Gryffindor's cunning strategy to avoid the Old Coot.

"Albus, Mr. Potter here seems to be a bit disturbed. Is there something I missed?" she asked pointedly while Harry scanned the room, desperate to find a diversion. The whole school was already suspecting something; he really didn't need Madam Pomfrey in full mother-hen mode. And now the Old Meddling Fool was about to put in his two Sickles. Just great. Harry swore under his breath. His coming to the infirmary had been a mistake, after all. He was about to subtly change the subject again when Dumbledore finally joined the conversation.

"Ah, my dear Poppy. I am glad that you have checked Harry for injuries, I too was worried about his health. But it seems that everything is in order now; he can leave the infirmary, right?"

'Poppy' grunted. Her prey was escaping, but she knew she couldn't do anything against the manipulative coo–headmaster.

Harry could not believe he had just been saved from a horrible moment of shame by Dumby. Suddenly, he dreaded that—

"Harry, would you come to my office, please? I need to talk to you."

There. He knew it. There always was a terrible price to pay when dealing with the old lemon-drop-happy wizard. Harry idly wondered if the sticky things could melt brain cells. Why not? No one had ever tried to find out whether lemon drops were corrosive, after all. Harry resigned himself to his fate. He quickly said his thanks to Madam Pomfrey_—_who seemed reluctant to let her latest victim go_—_and followed Dumbledore to his office. They walked in silence, the Headmaster's eyes never stopping their mad twinkling, which made Harry think he should start fretting right about now.

After passing the gargoyle and climbing up the stairs, they entered the messy office, where tons of weird lab objects and chemical pipes were smoking, boiling and changing colors. Harry froze immediately at the sight of a very smug Draco Malfoy already seated in one of the two armchairs in front of the desk. The strange urge to call his lawyer made Harry think he would spend the next hour trying to justify his actions. How the heck would he get out of this mess without further embarrassing himself? And in front of Malfoy too. He discreetly and desperately pinched himself again. Reality had never hurt so much. He then made for the Gryffindor approach; don't feel like explaining yourself? Make a scandal.

"There is absolutely no way I'll explain anything in front of this—this—"

"Stunning? Smart? Devastatingly charming?" Draco quipped innocently.

"—this narcissistic bastard!" Harry exploded.

"I assure you my parents were married when they had me. Though I truly regret the fact that Mother did not tell me sooner we had Vampire blood running in the family," he added with a frown. "As for the 'narcissistic' thing, I don't see why I shouldn't take pride in my appearance. I _am_ devilishly handsome, so why should I pretend I'm not?" he said with a satisfied smirk. At this moment, Harry wished that statement had not been so painfully true. Malfoy sat in a casual yet elegant manner, his graceful, slim figure easily putting the rest of the male population to shame. Harry was frantically thinking of a way to prevent himself from melting on the spot. Alas, the git had used his Ultimate Weapon Number 3: his long hair fell freely around his face, pale locks making his silver eyes and aristocratic features stand out. The top buttons of his shirt were open, revealing a pale neck. Harry almost drooled, but at the last moment he bit his bottom lip hard enough to remind himself that lusting after one's rival was just not on.

During the few seconds of tense silence, Dumbledore strode to his own comfy chair_—_were those little stars magically twinkling on it?_—_and popped a—

_Geez,_ Harry thought. Couldn't the predictable man eat anything besides yucky lemon drops? M&M's would have been a nice change, for once. The Gryffindor sighed. This was hopeless.

"Please have a sit, Mr. Potter, we need to talk," the ever cheerful Headmaster said. There went Harry's hope that this would be a nice knitting workshop. The black-haired boy complied reluctantly.

"No thanks," he said curtly as Dumbledore opened his mouth again to talk him into accepting one of the blasted drops. The old man just smiled and turned to Draco who refused politely, wondering why he was suddenly thinking about the corrosive properties of lemon drops. Who knew what damage the darn things could do to the brain if the Old Coot had gotten to this state?

"My dear boys," Dumbledore started. "I suppose you are aware of the reason of your presence here."

Harry snorted. Draco looked at him and raised an elegant brow. The Gryffindor ignored him.

"Mr. Potter's rather—interesting intervention has been witnessed by the whole school," Dumbledore smiled. "So I do not think this will stay a secret for too long, but—"

"Are you kidding?" Harry cried indignantly. "I've just embarrassed myself in front of the whole school and I don't even know what I was _doing _in the first place, and you 'do not think this will stay a secret'? Did you have to read all of Sherlock Holmes to come to that conclusion?" the Gryffindor fumed. Draco chuckled before he could stop himself. The Old Coot had had it coming for years. Besides, the vampire had always thought Dumbledore excelled in the art of stating the obvious. After all, the headmaster _was_ a Gryffindor.

Yet, the Slytherin knew that this crafty approach was only a means to an end; he was about to announce something very unpleasant. Draco frowned. True, he had wondered about the Boy-Who-Lived coming to his rescue, but he had tried not to think too much of the incident on his way to the headmaster's office. He had supposed he and Potter would get detention for fighting, even if that had not been the case. So what could Dumbydork know that would make this unpleasant?

Harry was still frustrated, but he let the headmaster go on with his speech.

"A week ago, in the middle of the night, I have been awoken by some very powerful and ancient magic. It came from the Forbidden Forest. Do you have any idea about what happened there?" he asked slyly.

Draco and Harry momentarily forgot their feud and turned to look at each other worriedly. They were still unsure about that particular episode. Harry did not want to tell anything to the man who had manipulated him for so long, but on the other hand, if he could get some information out of this, wouldn't that be worth the annoying questions of the no less annoying headmaster? Harry crossed his arms and pouted. This was not fair. He sighed. Who was he kidding? He didn't even have a choice, but it didn't mean he had to be the one telling the whole story.

Draco sighed too. Having followed Harry's internal monologue by just looking at the tortured face of his partner in crime, he could easily deduce that he would be the one explaining. He started with his idea to explore the area to fulfill his needs as a newly awoken vampire. Even Dumbledore had to admit that this had been a clever, if not a bit risky approach. Draco was a powerful Dark creature, but he was young and lacked experience in fighting with his vampire skills. As for the Forbidden Forest, it was, well, forbidden. For an awful lot of good, many-teethed reasons. The Slytherin kept telling the events up until the moment he made the mistake resulting in him getting knocked out. At which point Harry reluctantly took up the narrative and told his own part in the fight. Dumbledore did not seem all that shocked at the news that Harry had been awfully mad for Draco's sake, but the Slytherin could not help being stunned; Potter had failed to mention that part of the story. He'd been saved by Potter, eh? Interesting. He had wondered about some of the details ever since their encounter in the Forest. Now that he knew, he was oddly pleased at the idea that someone, even if it was Harry I-Have-A-Hero-Complex Potter had cared enough to save him. He could not deny that he had missed the Gryffindor's company and their arguments. _Yes, there is definitely something to explore in that direction,_ he mused.

Unaware of his nemesis' thought, Harry kept describing his reaction. He was all the more embarrassed at the fact that his wrath now seemed totally disproportionate and downright ridiculous. He did not dare look at either wizard, and that is why he missed the mischievous sparkle in Draco's eyes. The Slytherin suddenly sprang from his chair and threw himself at Harry's feet.

"Oooooh, Harry, mine hero!" he exclaimed in a sickening tone. "You saved mine life! I owe thee so much! I shall repay thee with a tender kiss!" Draco continued, putting a dramatic hand across his forehead. "Come hither, proud knight, and collect thy well-earned reward!"

At first, Harry had been annoyed; then he had grown very pale; by the end of the sentence, he had been horrified. He tried to move his chair as far as he could from the obviously possessed Slytherin and gulped at the predatory look in Malfoy's eyes. As a last resort, he threw a desperate look at the headmaster, who was watching the scene with a calculating look. Although he didn't really know why, that look made Harry angry.

"Malfoy!" he snapped, "Stop fooling around! And you," he said turning to Dumbledore, "You know something about this! Explain!" he demanded.

"I do have my own hypothesis concerning this, ah, behavior of yours, Mr. Potter. You have turned seventeen this summer, if my memory is correct." Harry merely nodded.

"And Mr. Malfoy here has turned seventeen earlier this year." A nod from Draco, who settled back on his chair, satisfied with his little drama.

"Both of you have powerful creatures' blood running in your family: Mr. Malfoy is a full vampire thanks to the gene in the Black family, while Mr. Potter is related to a rare kind of elves who live in very secretive communities," the Headmaster explained seriously.

Draco threw a curious look at Harry. Potter was part-elf? That certainly shed a new light on the events. Draco grew thoughtful. What if—

"I think Mr. Malfoy is starting to understand the implications of your respective inheritances," the Headmaster said lightly.

Harry looked at Draco, annoyed. Of course the git would know something Harry didn't. It wasn't fair. Harry didn't know anything about his powers since, as Dumby had so nicely put it, his bloody ancestors had chosen to hide from both Muggles and wizards, thus leaving a very ignorant Harry behind. Very few books mentioned Harry's peers so he kept walking in the dark. The only thing he knew was what he had told Sirius. The information had come from a very ancient-looking book, describing the typical appearance of this particular branch of elves. However, Harry didn't know anything about elven magic, except that it was ancient, powerful, blah, blah, blah. The Gryffindor threw an expectant look at the knowledgeable headmaster of Hogwarts.

"Even though your species are different, there are some—mechanisms in common," Dumbledore started again. "Both of you reached your magical and sexual maturity at seventeen and both of you now need a mate. However, this mating process does not work exactly like the Veelas' who have a chosen mate they need to court—hence the Attraction that they turn on when trying to get their mate to notice them," the old man explained. "What makes you two different", he continued, "is that you have no predestined life-mate. You are free to choose according to your own standards, and that is why I find it strange that your respective powers shall interact without your control," Dumbledore mused aloud.

"Mr. Potter, you mentioned that you have felt a wave of magic in the Forest and in the Great Hall. I have felt it as well, but could you describe its nature more precisely?" Harry remembered what he had told Madam Pomfrey. This was embarrassing, but dammit, he wanted to know what was going on. Damn his Gryffindorish curiosity.

"It felt tremendously powerful. I recognized a part of it as being mine, but it was combined to another magic that felt familiar, I just couldn't quite pinpoint it at the time," he said, avoiding Draco's intent gaze. Just because his logics and instincts were screaming at him that the answer to his question sat quite literally next to him, it didn't mean he had to acknowledge it. Yes, denial was a lovely and very convenient river in Egypt.

Dumbledore kept silent for a few seconds before Harry finally gave in.

"So what is your hypothesis?"

"By the way things happened, I would assume that Mr. Malfoy's magic has tampered with yours, Mr. Potter, thus sealing them together and creating a magical bond." Harry was already opening his mouth to shout at Draco, but Dumbledore continued. "I do not think this was a conscious action, but rather a natural reaction from Mr. Malfoy's powers." At which Draco childishly stuck out his tongue at Harry, which sent weird, contradictory signals to the poor Gryffindor's nerves. While Harry tried to convince his hormones that no, he would _not _go and sit down on Malfoy's lap to see if that tongue tasted as good as it looked, Dumbledore continued his explanation.

"As you know, magic has a mind of its own, which is all the more true for magical creatures. It might react to the matching magic of another creature, and the stronger the magic, the more chances there are for the two creatures' powers to interact. I think your respective kinds of magic have started a bond on their own, forcing Mr. Potter to protect Mr. Malfoy whenever he is in danger. This would explain the faint telepathy and the force pulling Mr. Potter across the Great Hall. Your powers now seem to be combined, which explains the incredible amount of magic which was produced. Magic wants you to be together and is trying to make you form a bond of a more emotional and—um, _physical_ kind."

Harry gaped for a few seconds while Draco's face grew thoughtful once again.

"A _BOND_? There's no way I'll form anything looking remotely like a bond with the git! Like I would start acting all lovey-dovey around him! Are you trying to make me die from a heart attack?" Harry screeched.

"Calm down, Mr. Potter. I am afraid you do not have a choice in this matter." Dumbledore looked anything but afraid, if his eyes—currently twinkling as steadily as Christmas garlands—were anything to go by.

There was a pause.

"So this can't be another weird way for that stupid old snake to torture me?" Harry said quietly, feeling miserable. He was so far gone already. Damn Malfoy and his yummy looks! The silence in the room stretched for a while. It was getting rather heavy when—

"I _knew_ this was all your fault, Malfoy!" Harry turned to the Slytherin. "You're always messing things up!"

"Aaah, but _Harry_, what can I do if you are hopelessly attracted to me?" Draco wiggled his brows suggestively.

"Why you little—" Harry started but was interrupted again.

While his two students had been arguing, Dumbledore had silently grabbed and pointed his wand at Draco's head.

**-**TUG!**-**

"Wha—" Draco said before he found himself with a lapful of Harry Potter who had effectively blocked the aim of the threatening wand. Both of them had been knocked to the ground under the impact and they lay sprawled at the feet of a very satisfied Dumbledore, who had rather efficiently proved his point. Harry shook his head to make the bloody dizziness go away, but quickly realized he was still lying on top of a very amused Draco Malfoy. He hastily stood up, pretending to dust himself to hide his blush.

"There, see? You're my personal Knight In Shining Armor, Potter. And there's nothing you can do about it," Draco said smugly.

There was a significant pause. Then—

"AAAAARGH!" Harry eloquently said before disappearing out of the office in a mad dash.

"This should be fun," Draco smirked, before he nodded to the headmaster and went out of the office as well, though at a much more dignified pace.

oOoOo

_**A/N:**__ Hope you liked this chapter. Don't hesitate to tell me if there's anything wrong with the grammar and/or spelling._


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling; I own the ridiculous plot.

**Warning:** SLASH, LANGUAGE, OOC-NESS. This story disregards OotP, HBP and DH, which basically translates into: "lalala I can't hear you, all the characters I like are still alive."

**Pairings:** DM/HP, RW/HG, SS/SB, RL/NT

**Summary: **_He could have been anything. A Goblin. An Orc. A Mountain Troll. Hell, he could have been the King of Dwarves, for all Harry cared. But NO, of all the magical creatures, Draco Malfoy had to be a vampire.__ 7th year at Hogwarts._

_A/N #1: In advance: _MERRY CHRISTMAS TO YOU ALL! _I just thought I'd give you another chappie as a Christmas gift. THANK YOU! LOTS OF HUGS!_

_**A/N #2: **__To __**liar-just-a-liar **__and __**Lintila **__(and also anybody who wanted to confirm):_

_Thanks for your relevant question. Harry __**is**__ uke in this fic. I should have said DM/HP, but I'm so used to seeing it HPDM that I forgot. Edit: done!_

oOoOo

"That had to be the weirdest week ever," the Boy-Who-Lived concluded. Some people might think he was a bit desperate to talk to his owl, but heck, he needed a quiet place to think for a while. Besides, there was the added bonus that Hedwig wouldn't ask him dumb questions about—about—

Harry sighed deeply. The day after their enlightening discussion in Dumbledore's office, he had ignored Malfoy, pretending the vampire was just part of the tapestries on the wall. Which he hardly was of course. The bloody git had been his usual, hopelessly sexy self, but whenever he looked at Harry, he got this knowing, calculating look that made Harry think this particular week was going to be a tough one. He couldn't have been more right.

At first, he had been very afraid that Malfoy might embarrass him in front of everyone, before remembering that he had done a pretty good job of that all by himself last Sunday. Merlin.

Then things had started to go wrong. Apparently, Malfoy was the target of far too many people in the school for Harry to even stay in the same place for five minutes. He had discovered that getting into the Slytherin Ice Prince's pants was the main goal of half of the student body, no matter their House, age or sex. That explained why Harry had been dragged up and down the castle for the past week, from the Dungeons to the Astronomy Tower, at any time of the day. And since Malfoy was Head Boy and always seemed to be wandering down the corridors, sometimes, even at night. Oh, and maybe the fact that he was a vampire had something to do with that too.

Each time, Harry had found himself defending Malfoy, who was positively delighted, though he had also seemed annoyed at Harry's obvious lack of enthusiasm. The Gryffindor would just push away the offending students with a mere wave of his hand and depart as soon as possible. What Harry wondered was why_,_ now that he knew he could summon Harry like a dog, Malfoy wasn't taking advantage of the situation. This puzzled Harry to no end. The vampire was supposed to be a downright bastard! How was he to deal with a Malfoy whose eyes filled with relief every time he saw Harry coming to his rescue? Harry was quite sure this wasn't the way rivals were supposed to act. Being relieved and all. What a mess, really. Why couldn't his last year at Hogwarts be normal for once? And it wasn't even Voldie's fault this time, for Merlin's sake! Just another freaky thing about The Boy-Who-Lived-To-Be-Special.

So here Harry was, up in the owlery at six in the morning, complaining to the only living being who wouldn't look at him as if he'd suddenly grown antennae. Even his friends had annoyed him with their dumb suggestions.

_oOoOo Four nights ago in the Gryffindor common room oOoOo_

Harry came through the portrait of the Fat Lady and crawled to the sofa in front of the fireplace.

"Harry, are you alright?" Hermione asked quite uselessly given the obviously defeated state of her best friend.

"Yeah, how are you feeling, mate?" Ron asked as well. The two of them definitely needed to get together. The sooner, the better. They might stop asking stupid questions then.

"Like a freak on a leash," Harry cackled a bit disturbingly. Jonathan Davis would have been so proud of him(1). Seeing the worried looks he was getting from his friends, Harry waved it off.

"Nevermind. I'm fine, it's just tiresome to be Malfoy's guard dog," he sighed.

"That bastard! I'll punch him next time I see him!" Ron growled.

Harry sighed again. "No, Ron, you won't, because I'll be standing right between you and him, remember?" he explained for the umpteenth time to his agitated best friend. What he did not notice was that he no longer bothered to explain he did not _want _to protect Malfoy. That's just the way things were now. Hermione had been way too quiet about this; Harry knew it wouldn't last long. He started hoping that maybe, _maybe _she wouldn't turn into the annoying knowledge-freak who should have been sent to Ravenclaw, but then all of his hopes went crashing down when she finally gave free rein to her endless curiosity.

"Harry, that is so interesting!" she finally burst out. "Can you see your magic? Does it have any color? What shape does it have? I didn't know it could combine that way! Is it like the Imperius curse? Do you have any will left? Can you hear Malfoy order you around? And do you—"

"STOP!" Harry interrupted, already sensing his next problem coming_—_"Hello! I am Huge Headache #2864 and I'm ready to make a mess of your mind for the next hours!"_—_so Harry wisely chose to try and prevent it. "I'm going to bed, now. Even freaks need some sleep. Hermione, Ron, make yourselves useful and start snogging right now instead of assaulting me with your dumb comments. I would very much appreciate the vacation, thank you." He stood and climbed up the stairs, leaving two very red Gryffindors in his wake.

oOoOo

Harry had not seen them apart since then. Not that _that_ had been much of a change per se; the main difference lay in their snogging sessions, which had replaced the annoying arguments. The raven-haired boy was quite pleased with himself. He should have done that a long time ago, silence was so nice. However, he would see Ron in a few moments: the Quidditch try-outs were about to take place. He climbed down the windowsill he had been sitting on. "See you later, Hedwig," he said waving at her.

He was currently dragging his feet in a corridor when _something_ cackling manically went past him so fast that it left a trail of dust. Harry blinked once. Twice. He slowly turned around but there was nothing left to see.

"What the—" he started.

"BLACK! YOU INSUFFERABLE MUTT! COME BACK HERE!"

Oh no. This was bad. Sirius had managed_—_very successfully it seemed_—_to piss off Severus Snape. Yes, _the _Severus Snape, whose voice never rose above the standard and oh-so-creepy whisper, who never lost his temper, who always took great pride in his Slytherin cool. Yes, the one and only Severus Snape, Hogwart's resident bat and Potions Master of Hell.

Harry took a discreet look at the usually stoic man. Well. So much for the Slytherin cool. Not wanting to be in the way of what seemed to be Snape's Worst Wrath Ever, Harry stepped into the shadow of an armor and waited for the storm to literally pass. He hoped Sirius would still be alive by the time the Quidditch try-outs were over. A dead godfather wasn't really useful, after all. On the other hand, he sympathized with Snape; the poor git had been acting more like the Auror's guardian than the Potions Master he was supposed to be ever since the arrival of the so-called spy.

While Harry had been musing, Sirius_—_for it had been him indeed_—_had dashed past his godson in the opposite direction this time, still cackling like a madman, and still being chased by an almost literally fuming Potions Master. Once the danger was away, Harry stepped out of his hideout and went to the Tower to collect his Quidditch things. He sighed. He seemed to be doing that a lot, lately. He just didn't like Quidditch all that much anymore. He liked flying, not being pressured into finding the Snitch. Why was he still on the team, already? Oh, yeah. Because he could keep beating Malfoy at it. But try-outs? He needed to find a good chaser and a beater as well. There really was nothing interesting about try-outs.

oOoOo

The Gryffindor team was already gathered on the pitch when he arrived. He was slightly late, what with having to hide from a highly dangerous breed of Potions Master. He nodded at everyone and apologized. When he explained the reason for his tardiness, the other members either chuckled or rolled their eyes at the Auror's antics. Sirius had a real gift when it came to wreaking havoc in the castle. At almost every meal, some unfortunate student would sprout arms, legs or tails; different parts of their body would change colors with a matching pattern of stripes, dots or stars_—_to Dumbledore's utmost delight_—_and some of the unlucky persons even started to hoot, squeak or trumpet in the middle of the Great Hall.

Harry shook his head, trying to concentrate on the task at hand. There were about ten Gryffindors ready to try and be the next star of the team. Right. The green-eyed boy asked a few questions about their motivations and then turned to his co-captain. This had been one of the agreements ever since Ron became Gryffindor's Goal Keeper; being really good at strategy and loving Quidditch so much, it was hard to make him get off his broom once the training session came to an end. Ron took over where Harry had left and started with his usual speech. Oliver Wood may have left, but some of his greatest supporters were still here to carry on his noble task.

"Alright, guys!" Ron clapped his hands a couple of times, all business-like. "Those who want to apply for the chaser position on the left and those for the beater on the right_—_good. First chaser on the line, please come forward."

Harry silently watched the whole process, nodding approvingly or making a face whenever Ron wanted his opinion about the performances. After three hours of hard work, the Gryffindor team had finally acquired an excellent chaser and a rather good beater. Harry was proud: he and Ron had managed to bring a good balance to the team. Yup. This year again, the Quidditch Cup was theirs. Nyah to Malfoy. A very muddy, tired but also very satisfied Gryffindor team was leaving the pitch when the Slytherin team, led by none other than the aforementioned vampire, arrived for their scheduled training. Of course, the Slytherins started insulting the red and gold team.

"So, how was training? Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot your brooms where only for decorative purposes since you can't even take off."

"Why don't you go back in the mud where you belong?"

"I hope you didn't mix the Quaffle and the Bludgers again. Are you trying to court Pomfrey or something?"

Draco was pleased with the high spirits of his team. He didn't care what they were saying, as long as all they thought about was victory: "Anything to defeat your opponent" was one Salazar Slytherin's many teachings. Anything to show Potter that Draco was a worthy opponent. A very annoying one, too. Talking about Potter.

The Gryffindor was standing there, paying absolutely no mind to what the Slytherins were saying. He was too busy trying to avoid Malfoy's insistent gaze. He was getting nervous; the sooner this confrontation was over, the sooner he could be away from Malfoy's prying eyes. There was _no such thing_ as a bond between them. As long as they didn't "interact" as Dumbledore had so nicely put it, the bond couldn't develop any further, could it? So here Harry was, putting this infallible piece of logic to practice; he would certainly _no_t be the one starting to argue with the Slytherins. He had, however, forgotten about one tiny little detail_—_namely, a very susceptible redhead, best friend of his, who couldn't help opening his mouth to maturely insult back the "slimy Slytherins".

"Shut your traps, you stupid bastards!" Ron exclaimed, face as red as his hair.

This might be interesting. Draco realized it had been far too long since his Knight In Shining Armor had been anywhere near him. Yes, it was time for Harry to remember that no one escaped a Malfoy, and so the Slytherin Captain retorted with a smirk:

"How_—_original, really, Weasel. Did you have to go through your entire vocabulary to find such creative insults?"

"Fuck you, Malfoy! Tell your monkeys to leave us alone!"

"Ah but the thing is, who else would be dumb enough to actually enter their little game?"

Harry had to kick himself mentally to refrain from agreeing aloud with Malfoy. Suddenly, he had the same growing sensation as _that time_. _Noooo!_ he started panicking. He had to make Ron calm down before anything embarrassing happened.

"Ron, just drop it, let's go back now and—"

"Yeah, that's it!" a very ugly Slytherin boy interrupted rudely. "Go back to your ridiculous tower and hide in there! Don't get out before we get the Cup! Actually, even if you did get out, it wouldn't even make a difference!"

"See, Weasel. What can I do if you're no match for my team?" Draco shrugged. It wouldn't be long, now. Harry didn't know whether he was more annoyed at the dumb boy's comment or more frightened about the possible effect of Ron's anger towards Dra–_Malfoy_.

Draco was counting silently. 8...7...6...

Harry was getting desperate. "Ron, don't, they're not worth it—"

3... 2... 1...

"WHO'S NO FUCKING MATCH, HERE! MALFOY, I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!" Ron yelled, ready to jump at the Slytherin's throat.

_Oh no, _was all Harry could think before he was abruptly pulled in front of Malfoy, facing his best friend. He might have laughed at the absurdity of the situation, what with him and his ridiculously small size protecting Malfoy and his 6 feet 2 inches from Ron who was even taller; however, Harry did not feel like laughing. At all. Standing with his back to Malfoy was bad enough, but when it was to face his best friend, somehow, he thought it couldn't get worse.

Of course, Harry was wrong.

Draco suddenly caught him around the waist in a surprisingly gentle manner, effectively trapping the Gryffindor against his chest. Then, the Malfoy heir put his chin on Harry's head and smirked, silently daring the Gryffindors to just _say_ something. Harry's braincell activity froze while a singsong voice in his head happily informed _'Momentarily unavailable. Please, leave a short message after the signal.'_

Draco was really pleased with himself. His magic was humming contentedly; Harry was warm, and it was so much fun to annoy him like that. He decided that Harry-hugging was now his favorite activity and that no one would stop him doing it.

"LET GO OF HIM!" Ron roared.

Hell. He had forgotten about the Weasel-issue. Time to get rid of the red-haired problem.

"Aww, is ickle Ronniekins jealous?" Draco purred, making Harry shiver. Feeling the vibrations of Draco's voice against his back was doing dangerous things to his sanity, and his body was enjoying this way too much. He idly wondered what it would be like to have that voice murmuring things to him while—'NO! BAD HARRY, BAD!' he mentally screamed and bashed his raging hormones in a rather Dobbyish manner. Thinking about Malfoy like that. He was so screwed—NONONONO! NOT SCREWED! BAD CHOICE OF WORDS!

AUNT PETUNIA IN A BIKINI!

DUMBLEDORE IN A THONG!

That finally did the trick. Eww. Then Harry realized with a start that he had been somewhere in la-la-land yet again, and that the argument between his best friend and his worst enemy had never stopped. He also realized in _whose_ arms exactly he was and proceeded to blush quite furiously.

"Don't flatter yourself, Malfoy!" he spat, jumping out of Draco's arms. If he shivered, it was only because it was cold outside, thank you very much. "I'm only defending you because of this stupid curse of yours and believe me, I'm hating every minute of it!" at which Harry turned his heels and began stomping towards the locker rooms.

"Are you?" came the cheeky retort. There was a pause while the words hung in the air. Harry stopped walking, but he did not turn around. He certainly did not want to answer that_. _"Come on, guys, let's go back," he said to his bewildered team.

The Slytherin team threw a few more insults at the departing Gryffindors, thinking their awesome Captain had taught the Brat-Who-Lived a good lesson. Without paying any more attention to the other team, they started to get ready for their own training. However, Draco's silver eyes never left the retreating back of a certain Gryffindor. He had been right; Potter had a hell of a temper, but became all flustered and lost when confronted with physical signs of affection. Why was that? Didn't his Muggle family give him plenty of hugs? Draco frowned. He would have to ask his spy about this. And kick some asses, if necessary. Draco thought about Harry's blank moment and then about his violent reaction. It had been interesting. The smaller boy was so cute when he was embarrassed. Yep. That particular aspect needed further investigation. _Now let the hunt begin,_ Draco thought, the smile slowly creeping on his face making the rest of his team cower in fright.

oOoOo

Ron was rambling again on their way out of the Quidditch locker room. The shower had been well-needed and their Quidditch gear had been neatly put away in their dorms. The two Gryffindors were now heading towards the Great Hall to have lunch.

"I can't believe that evil git threatened you like that!" When Ron looked expectantly at Harry for some sort of agreement, the green-eyed Gryffindor nodded meekly. To him, Dra–_Malfoy_ had been far too gentle and warm, and _that's_ what had been threatening. But no! Harry wouldn't give in! It was all because of that bond thing! He felt nothing but indifference towards the blond vampire. Even if he was all warm. And handsome. And—

DOH!

Harry banged his head against the nearest wall.

"Um—Harry? Is everything alright?" Ron asked, frowning.

_Obviously not! _Harry's mind yelled, but he thought better than actually saying it aloud. Ron was just worried, after all.

"I'm just a bit tired. Let's eat and then I'll take a nap." To hell with Snape's stupid essay. Besides, the Potions Master would be too busy running after Sirius to notice Harry's slapdash essay. Who cared about the properties of vampire blood, anyway?

—noooo! Not again! To hell with vampires and too hell with sexy blondes. There. Harry pushed his food around his plate, not talking much. Ron was too busy either stuffing his face or catching up on his snogging sessions with Hermione. The couple did not even notice when Harry left the Great Hall to take his nap. Sleeping was a good means of escaping reality, right?

oOoOo

_Wrooooong, that was so fucking wrong._

Why did Malfoy have to torture him even in his bloody dreams? There should be another law about Malfoy. _One shall not smile so beautifully that it makes other people want to never leave them_. Was that too much to ask? Who had ever seen the git smile, anyway? Harry's nerves were in a pretty bad state, already; there was no need for him to dream about such nonsense. A walk, he needed a walk to calm down. He cast a quick Tempus_, _the glittering diggits informing him that it was 5:38pm. It was already dark outside. He seemed to have needed the long nap. He just hoped he'd be able to sleep normally tonight. Last time he hadn't found sleep, it had led to the horrible mess he was now in, so no more wandering into the Forbidden Forest in the middle of the night. A mere walk inside the castle shouldn't bring anything bad. He just had to avoid the Dungeons.

Harry put on some clothes—black pants and a green shirt, courtesy of one Sirius Black. The poor Auror had done a pretty good imitation of "The Scream" by Munch upon seeing Harry's old and baggy clothes. The young wizard hesitated for a bit before deciding against taking his wand; there shouldn't be anything he'd need it for. He climbed down the stairs to the common room and went past his two best friends who were, once again, in the middle of one of their tonsil-washing sessions. They didn't see him. Harry didn't even stop and walked straight through the Fat Lady's portrait.

He wandered here and there, not paying attention to his whereabouts. He was trying very hard to think about _anything_ as long as it didn't include annoying blondes. Or vampires. Or gorgeous smiles. Or—

He banged his head hard against an armor that 'clunked' loudly, the sound echoing in the deserted corridors. Everybody was in their respective common rooms, either dozing off next to the fire or doing homework while waiting for dinner to be ready.

Harry was about to resume his walk when two strong arms encircled him from behind, pulling him against a familiar chest. This had better not be who he thought it was. He tried to turn his head to see, but froze when he heard a low chuckle in his ear.

"Hullo, Potter," the all-too-familiar voice drawled.

"AAAAAAARGH!"

It was an interesting understatement to say that Harry was highly displeased.

"What's the big idea, Malfoy? Leggo!" he struggled with a horrible sense of déjà vu.

"Hmmm—" the Vampire pretended to think. "No, not yet," he said huskily, leaning into Harry's body. Harry felt his cheeks flushing a dark red.

"So, how's my personal knight? Have you seen the Weasel's face when I hugged you, Harry? That was priceless! I'm sure he was being jealous, anyway. How could anybody refuse to hug you is beyond me—" Draco added thoughtfully, as if remembering something.

Harry didn't know what was the most shocking thing among all this information: the fact that Drac–_Malfoy, for Merlin's sake!_ had said he liked hugging Harry, the fact that he had called him by his first name, or the fact that the Vampire seemed to know something about his lovely past and so-called family. Not forgetting the fact that no one had ever hugged Harry like that. True, Hermione had given him a friendly hug once or twice, and Mrs. Weasley had crushed his bones in a motherly embrace, but this was completely different; this was frighteningly warm and comfortable and—

Harry was suddenly very scared. This was Malfoy! This was wrong! His brain was screaming at him. He fought the arms ensnaring him like the proud lion he was and fled like the self-preserving snake he was as well, except he wasn't all that proud of that. He had run along four corridors, climbed up two stairs, turned three times to the left and one to the right. Consequently, he was completely out of breath somewhere far from his dorm, but at least he was now rid of the scary Slytherin. The vampire must definitely not be in his right mind; he must have inhaled some of Snape's awful mixtures one too many times.

Right in the middle of Harry's possible explanations for his weird behavior, the vampire in question stepped out of nowhere.

"Potter, there you are! Why'd you run like the Hounds of Hell were after you?" Draco asked innocently.

"YIKES! How the hell_—_" Harry started. He stopped abruptly and jumped back when he saw Malfoy take a step in his direction.

"Stay away from me! What's wrong with you? Have you gone nuts? You don't go hugging your worst enemy like that! It's—it's—improper!" Harry stammered, staying well out of reach. Draco merely smirked and raised a delicate brow.

The bastard was toying with him, Harry just knew it. "You infuriating _jerk_!" he exploded. "Stop fooling around! As if rescuing you every other minute wasn't enough, already!"

"Ah, but you see, it wasn't. You're really interesting, I can never tell the way you're going to react," Draco quipped, eyes shining. "I swear last time you were as scary as Salazar himself," he frowned at the memory, trying to find a possible explanation. Harry paled. It was alright for his friends to notice that he was sometimes acting like a true Slytherin, but if his enemy knew, he'd never hear the end of it. Malfoy would tell everybody, and everybody would become suspicious, and—

Wait.

Everybody _was_ suspicious already. Meh.

_Or maybe the reason why you're afraid is because you wouldn't mind all that much being hugged by the Slytherin Ice Prince. Heh. Seems like you're drawn to the dark side of the Force—_

Upon hearing the smug little voice in his head, Harry paled even more. What to do, _what to do_?

Harry chose the easiest way. He dashed past Draco without a word, running straight back to Gryffindor Tower. Only there would he be safe from the horrible vampire and his disturbingly warm body. Not to mention the fact that the Slytherin was acting completely out of character, hugging Harry like that. And how the heck could he know about the Dursleys? As Harry ran past Snape's classroom, an interesting pink smoke started coming out from under the door, and the voice of a very angry Potions Master and a gleeful Auror could be heard. Harry didn't stop, however, scared as he was to be hugged in a dark corner by some crazy blond vampire. Finally reaching the portrait of the Fat Lady, he shouted the password and slammed the painting behind him, leaning heavily against it. He slid to the ground, panting. He finally stood up and walked past the still snogging Hermione and Ron. Geez. Was that all a relationship entailed? Once in the security of his dorms, Harry let himself fall onto his bed and sighed contentedly. Now, he didn't have to worry any longer, he could just stay in his room until tomorrow morning. Yep. No need to get out of the Tow—

-_groooowl_-

Merlin. Even his stomach wanted him dead(2). He had totally forgotten that he was supposed to eat. And Madam Pomfrey was still watching his eating habits; she would rip his head off if she saw on her monitoring spell that he hadn't had anything for dinner. Feeling miserable, the poor green-eyed elf got up and dragged his feet back towards his doom. Walking through the common room yet again, he went to the sofa where his friends were still attached to the mouth.

"DINNER!" he yelled, making the couple jump apart. They looked completely dazed; so much for walking to the Great Hall together. Harry grumbled about lovestruck fools. Who said he was frustrated? He walked over to the portrait and opened it slowly. Maybe he should take his invisibility cloak. He risked his head out of the portrait, looked suspiciously to the left, then to the right. He sighed in relief: no crazy vampire around. Not letting his guard down, he walked carefully to one of the armors and hid behind it. He peered around the old thing before darting to the next armor to his left. Who said he was being paranoid? It was a quality for Slyth—er, it was a quality, _period_. He was just a cautious lion. After a good fifteen minutes spent hiding behind tapestries, flattening himself against the walls and looking around carefully, Harry finally made it to the Great Hall. He slid very discreetly into the vast room, hidden among a group of chattering Ravenclaws. He then took a few strides to join the Gryffindor table and did a quick dive behind Dean and Seamus who stopped talking about Sirius' latest prank—turning the first year Slytherins' robes pink and replacing their snake crest with Winnie the Pooh.

"Hiya, Harry!" Dean said.

"Shhhh!" the slight boy said, casting a mistrustful glance around. "I'm not Harry and you've never seen me here," he whispered urgently.

"Alright, so who are you then and why are you hiding behind Seamus?" Dean asked, understanding the situation at once. He was a bit bewildered though; the Boy-Who-Lived, now the most powerful wizard in this day and age, hiding?

"You look like some spy on a mission," Seamus said, laughing at Harry's antics. "Your name wouldn't happen to be James Bond, by any chance?" he grinned. He was very surprised when Harry suddenly slapped a hand on his mouth, as if he'd said something incredibly dangerous.

"Don't talk about _bonds_, for Merlin's sake! _He_ could hear it!" Harry whispered, panicking. He drew his hand, observing the other students nervously. Dean and Seamus looked at each another.

"Harry, who's after you? You have a bond with someone? Who's the lucky girl?" Dean asked, curious. The raven-haired boy turned bright red. "I, um—that is—I can't tell, sorry." Seamus smiled mischievously.

"Isn't it because it's actually a lucky bloke that it makes you fret like that?" he asked.

Harry became frantic. "Shhhhh! How in the blazes d'you kn—" he shut up when he realized that he had let out another relevant piece of information, the second one in less than 3 minutes. He was glad at the moment that he had not been sent to Slytherin; he was such a bad liar sometimes. Salazar would have stoned him to death.

Seamus smirked knowingly. "Harry, ol' pal, I know these things," the Irish boy simply said. "Look at you; you're small, you have soft, shiny hair, huge green eyes; you can be either terrifying or endlessly cute. To make it short—no pun intended, mate—you're hopelessly innocent and utterly edible, and you're the only one here who has yet to realize that half of the school is trying to get into your pants. Female _and_ male population."

Harry was gaping by now. "Whaaa—?" he stuttered, blushing again.

"Of course," Seamus continued, not paying any attention to his friend's embarrassed state, "the other half is lusting after Malfoy. I don't blame them, though: he's every bit the Slytherin Ice Prince, after all." Harry was positively horrified. He didn't dare look at the Slytherin table. After Seamus had so directly summoned the Devil himself, Harry knew he couldn't stay here. He mumbled something about not being hungry, after all, and ran straight to the doors. He'd have to go to the kitchens and grab something. Anything as long as he could escape—

He froze when he heard voices and steps around the corner. Draco and Blaise appeared, talking animatedly.

"I swear, Blaise, I don't know exactly why but—"

Seeing that Blaise was looking at something in front of them, Draco looked as well.

"Potter, you're right on time, for once. I was trying to explain Blaise here that I seem to have power over you, but he wouldn't believe it so I guess I'll just have to show him," Draco declared as if it were the most natural thing to say. Harry huffed indignantly. Power over him? As if! He was a Gryffindor! He had defeated the Dark Lord! Nothing could control him! He—

Draco closed the distance between them in a few strides, lifting up his arms in a monster-like manner.

ALERT! ALERT! MONSTER-HUG COMING UP!

Harry 'eeeped' and ran for the hills.

_All right,_ he thought as he dashed past an ugly portrait. Maybe he was a tiny little bit afraid of Malfoy's hugs. But geez, it wasn't everyday your worst enemy stooped so low as to hug you! He ran to the kitchen where Dobby was more than happy to give him plenty of sandwiches. Harry thanked him and resumed his running. On his way to Gryffindor Tower, he saw Ron and Hermione heading for the Great Hall.

"Sorry, guys!" he yelled, still running. "I'm going to bed! See ya!" He dashed through the portrait and didn't stop running until he reached his dorms. He ate a few sandwiches, refusing to listen to the same voice telling him he was such a snake, fleeing from immediate danger like that. He brushed his teeth and put on some pajamas before tumbling into bed.

_Please, whatever god might be listening, don't let Malfoy go anywhere near me, _he thought desperately before falling into a deep sleep. Whoever said the gods have nothing better to do than answering people's prayers, well, they were just wrong. And they forgot to mention that the gods have a wicked sense of humor.

oOoOo

(1) I couldn't help it, I love Korn.

(2) Yes, I know, very lame parody of "Apocalypse Now".

**A/N:**_**THANK YOU ALL!**_

**Reply to the anonymous (and the less anonymous) reviewers:**

_**fragonknight01 **__(you're the less anonymous, in case you didn't notice): Lemon drops are evil little things. Dumbledore should have known better than eating tons of them. I'm not sure there's much left of his brain, but what's left of it has to be very clean indeed._

_**avihenda:**__ Thank you! Chappie 7! Yay! __Here goes nothing._

_**Ann:**__ Thanks! It is a well-known fact that everybody has to suffer before getting what they want. If not, we'd be bored out of our minds. And we'd terribly miss Harry and Draco doing interesting things._

_**Jane:**__ Thanks for reviewing! And thank you for the nice constructive crits; I appreciate the fact that you didn't just flame and kick me to death. I'm sorry if my style is not conventional. Believe me, I'm perfectly aware of it, and I've deliberately chosen to stick to a light style_—_since it's _supposed _to be funny_—_and keep clear from boring descriptions. I mean, hey I'm French. Have you ever digested Balzac and Zola and Proust? I sure haven't. Same goes for Dickens or Conrad. More seriously, I know there is a balance between the 'too much' and the 'too little' with descriptions, so I'll try to heed your warning. The other thing is, I don't write that way because it's convenient or faster or anything; where's the challenge when you're writing because it's "easy"? It's just that I don't plan to stay forever in the memory of my readers by giving them better descriptions, I just want to make them laugh for a while._

_**HAVE A NICE HOLIDAY! SEE YOU NEXT YEAR! **_


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling; I own the ridiculous plot.

**Warning:** SLASH, LANGUAGE, OOC-NESS. This story disregards OotP, HBP and DH, which basically translates into: "lalala I can't hear you, all the characters I like are still alive."

**Pairings:** DM/HP, RW/HG, SS/SB, RL/NT

**Summary: **_He could have been anything. A Goblin. An Orc. A Mountain Troll. Hell, he could have been the King of Dwarves, for all Harry cared. But NO, of all the magical creatures, Draco Malfoy had to be a vampire.__ 7th year at Hogwarts._

oOoOo

People around Harry Potter did not know much about him. Of course, it depended on how close to the small wizard they were. For instance, most of the students at Hogwarts were convinced he was _adorable_, which pissed Harry to no end. He was a ferocious, terrifying elf. —alright. Maybe he was a bit vertically challenged. So what? Dean had once talked about his 3.2 feet tall, 6 year old cousin who was making her parents' life a living hell. Harry was a terrifying _chibi_ elf, and that was final.

Then, there were the Gryffindors who knew a bit more about him than the rest of the school; they saw him in the common room and during meals, so they knew some of his habits. He would play exploding snap with Ron, do his homework with Hermione or curl on the sofa to take a nap—which often resulted in a concert of cooing all around him.

And then there were his roommates, who definitely knew some of the Boy-Who-Lived's most important characteristics, and that included the fact that Harry Potter was not a morning person, which brings us to this fine Saturday night of October. Two weeks had gone since Harry had bravely fled from Malfoy. The Gryffindor had been very pleased; he had indeed successfully avoided the dangerous, big bad vampire. It had not been that easy, because the blonde was busy himself trying to avoid the packs of fans who were Draco-hunting in the corridors. Harry had to admit, the vampire had mastered the technique of blending in the shadows. Annoying git. Stepping gracefully out of nowhere and flashing his bright teeth in a Crest™ smile whenever he looked at Harry. To which Harry responded with a Death Glare™ that would have made Heero Yui very proud.

The green-eyed teen had noticed that the silly blonde was not trying all that hard to frighten his attackers. Why would Malfoy refrain from using his cool powers? Harry surely needed the break. True, he had gotten better at using his magic, what with all the training he had with levitating the overzealous fans away from Malfoy, but this was getting old. And tiring. And pointless. Harry was glad though: his magic had not felt as threatened as that one time in the Great Hall with Pansy, which meant he had acquired a certain control of it.

Well, except when Malfoy hugged him. Whatever.

The small elf had managed to avoid the Hugging Demon for the past two weeks. He was rather proud of his achievement, and that is why he was currently sleeping in his comfy bed, blissfully ignorant that his nice period of peace was about to end in a rather abrupt manner.

-TUG!-

Harry was viciously pulled out of his bed by the powerful magic. He was dragged through the common room, right through the Fat Lady's portrait. She woke up with a start and was about to tell the offending student that they were not supposed to be outside the dorms at three in the morning, when she caught sight of a very sleepy Harry Potter being dragged along the corridor by some kind of invisible force. She was still gaping by the time he disappeared around the corner. The small Gryffindor was far too tired to realize anything on his way down to the Dungeons. He gave no reaction whatsoever when the pull came to a stop in front of a portrait of Merlin himself. The old wizard smiled knowingly and the portrait opened. The dragging resumed and Harry was still somewhere out to lunch. Only when the pull released him in front of a bed did he take in the scene.

Millicent Bulstrode was currently trying to catch the attention of a panicked-looking Draco. She had somehow managed to tie him down to his bed and he was desperately struggling to block the horrible sight of an almost naked Millicent from his poor eyes. The witch had her back to the door and was so very intent on proving her prey she could do 'amazing things' that she never saw the silver tendrils of magic starting to unfold from a very, very pissed _chibi_ elf.

oOoOo

Draco was getting desperate. Why was it always him, anyway? First Pink Pug-face Parkinson, and now this. He'd been sleeping peacefully when his vampire senses woke him up and told him something was wrong. Like, very very wrong. He had thrown himself at his wand—too late. He had tried to dodge, but the caster of the binding spell had been far too close to miss him.

Millicent Bulstrode had cooed and rambled about how dreamy he was and how she was sure he would learn to love her. Knowing he could break the spell if he concentrated long enough, Draco tuned her out and started gathering some of his magic when she rudely interrupted to bind his wrists and ankles with a magical rope to 'make sure he would listen to her'. Alright. Major fail, here. And there she was, closing in on him, leaving a trail of drool that would have made a snail jealous, ready to pounce on him. One part of his brain wondered distractedly if snails could actually pounce, while another screamed at him to close his eyes if he wanted to keep his sanity intact. So much for the super vampire powers. Where was Harry, anyway? Finally, he felt the binding spell wear off; the stupid cow had always sucked mainting simple spells. Now if he could just get the bloody rope restraining his hands to move a bit, he would be able to grab his wand on his bed. Struggling like a demon—well, like a demon in nothing but boxers, anyway—he was getting ready to kick the living daylights out of Bulstrode when he felt a familiar magic just behind the troll currently assaulting him.

Harry Potter was standing there, eyes shining a bright silver in the dark. The light breeze created by his magic was swirling gently around him, making his black locks float around his face.

'Yum' was all Draco's braincells were able to tell him.

Millicent still stood between them, utterly oblivious of the situation. Even worse: she saw the look on Draco's face and mistook it as being directed to her.

"Oooooh, Drakie-pooh, I knew you'd understand! I'll kiss you and hug you and we'll get married and we'll have two dogs and a cat and a hamster and—"

A vein twitched on the Gryffindor's forehead. He took a step towards the Girl-Who-Would-Soon-Regret-She-Lived. In a slow motion, he gracefully raised his wand and—

oOoOo

Given the extreme violence of the scene, the author has chosen to present you instead with the recipe of Sourdough Pancakes.

_To begin with, you've gotta have "starter" which is a batch of floor and yeast that you can keep for years (scary when you think about it sitting there in your refrigerator)._

_STARTER:_

_1⁄2 pkg. Active dry yeast1 tbsp. Sugar_

_2-1⁄2 c. lukewarm water2 cups flour_

_Soften yeast in 1⁄2 c. water. Add rest of ingredients and mix well. Let stand in a covered bowl or crock (not metal) for 3 days at room temperature (76-80°F). Stir down daily. Refrigerate after 3 days. Now you're ready to make pancakes! _

_1 c. Starter (refrigerate the rest)1 egg_

_2 c. Lukewarm water2 tbsp. Cooking oil_

_about 2-1⁄2 c. Flour1 tsp. Salt_

_1 tbsp. Sugar1 tsp. Baking soda_

_2 tbsp. Sugar1⁄4 c. Evaporated milk or cream_

_Evening: Put starter in large bowl. Add water, flour and sugar. Mix well. (It will be thick and lumpy). Cover and leave in warm place overnight. Next morning take 1 or 2 cups of batter and put back in starter bowl. Then to remaining batter add egg, cooking oil and milk. Add salt, baking soda, and sugar. Mix into batter gently. This causes foaming and rising action. Let stand a few minutes and fry on hot greased griddle. Add a little milk if too thick. Enjoy._

oOoOo

When Millicent Bulstrode crawled out of the Head Boy's room, let's just say she had more in common with a giant snail crossbred with what looked like some very hairy—something, than with anything even remotely human.

Draco was shrugging off the loosened rope, cursing all the while. Binding him like some freaking calf, really. He grinned when he thought about the more adequate looks his fellow Slytherin had acquired, courtesy of his knight. It surely did no good to get on the wrong side of the fierce elf. The blonde could see that Harry's magic was now receding, and that the soft silver light was fading back into him. The light breeze stopped blowing as well and the glowing eyes returned to their original green. Draco was about to scare the hell out of his savior with one of his melodramatic scenes when he stopped dead in his tracks. No. This could not be possible. _Well. Looks like it is, _a small voice pointed out sarcastically in the Slytherin's head. And indeed, slowly but surely, the Gryffindor's eyes were closing again. Still sitting on his bed, Draco could not believe his eyes. "Hey, Potter! POTTER!" he tried in vain. Harry's shoulders sagged and his entire body went limp as he merely fell forward _and _asleep. What was bound to happen did: Harry crashed down onto Draco, flattening the vampire on his own bed and banging their heads in the process.

"Ow!" Draco was about to curse the silly Elf-Who-Had-Dared-To-Fall-Asleep-On-Him, when he realized three things.

First, he was now lying on his bed with an armful of yummy Gryffindor.

Secondly, said Gryffindor was still sleeping like the dead, not disturbed in the least by the fall.

And last but not least, the smaller wizard was cuddling the vampire and purring like a kitten.

'Gah' was Draco's first reaction.

He started petting the soft, shiny black locks before he could help it. Which resulted in more purring. After a few minutes of gentle petting, Draco thought Harry had better be back in his dorms, if he did not want the rest of the school to go panicking around like a mass of freaky ants once they realized their Savior was missing. Reluctantly, Draco tried to wake the Gryffindor up. He called Harry's name softly. Nothing. He stopped the petting and called louder, which just made things worse. Harry moaned at the loss and buried his face in the crook of the blonde's neck.

Draco blinked.

His brain was very slow to process the data, while his nerves, quicker to grasp the implications of the situation, were already jumping up and down and 'mwahaha'ing under his sensitive skin. He was trying to find a way to wake up the small wizard really fast, when he remembered that he _was_ a sneaky Slytherin, after all. An evil smile slowly appeared on his lips. He resumed the petting.

"Haaaarryyyy..." he called huskily.

The Gryffindor slowly raised his head to follow those wonderful hands and keep them on his head. If he had bothered to open his eyes, he would have realized his face was only inches away from his enemy's whose eyes had acquired a strange glint, to say the least. Without another word, Draco met Harry's lips with his own.

oOoOo

A voice, calling his name in the fog. Then—

Nice. This, whatever it was, felt _really_ nice. Harry could not remember a moment in his life when he had felt this warm, but something requiring his immediate attention slowly came up inside his addled brain. His magic and body where humming contentedly, telling him this was incredibly right, while his brain was yelling at him that this was definitely wrong. Why would it be wrong already? What was it, anyway? Concentrating a bit, Harry felt something move against his lips. Mentally sighing, he decided it was time to see to what extent the nice feeling was real and what actually belonged to the realm of dreams. He slowly opened his eyes to a pair of silver glowing orbs he thought he recognized from somewhere. His braincells went into a frenzy.

_'Apollo calling Earth, I repeat, Apollo calling Earth! Abrupt reaction is to be expected! I repeat! Get cover everyone! The whole system is about to break down!' _

_'Roger that!'_

The vampire broke the kiss.

"Huh?" a still groggy yet somewhat breathless Harry Potter said very explicitly.

"Time to get up, Harry," Draco smirked, pecking the elf's nose.

oOoOo

At the other end of the Forbidden Forest, Aragog jerked awake. A horrible shriek had awoken him. He shuddered, thinking about the terrifying creature that was now haunting the dark corridors of Hogwarts. Never would he make the same mistake again and misjudge small creatures like that one.

oOoOo

Somewhere in the castle, Albus Dumbledore awoke and smiled. All was going according to his plans.

...

What were his plans, already? Whatever, as long as it entailed lots of lemon drops at the end. Satisfied with his conclusion, the old wizard went back to sleep.

oOoOo

The morning after that eventful night, Harry Potter was stomping down the corridors of Hogwarts in one hell of a bad mood.

How could—

He had—

What the—

Aaaaaargh!

This was all too infuriating. That sneaky vampire would pay for this! How could he go and kiss Harry like that and make him feel things he did not even know were possible to feel? Now Harry was all confused, dammit! The first question was: "why?" Why would that stupid vampire kiss Harry? Did he just want to further mess with Harry's head? Or was it something else? Did he just want to humiliate and mock the Gryffindor yet again? Wasn't it enough already that he got to be the cool vampire while Harry was stuck being a vertically challenged elf? Ugh, too many questions. He reluctantly came to the conclusion that he needed to talk to someone. Harry usually kept his problems and worries to himself—all those years with the Dursleys had made sure of that—but he really needed someone to reassure him and prove him he was not falling for Dra–for _anyone_. He didn't want to rely as much as he used to on his two best friends; they needed some time to themselves now that they were a couple. Who could he talk to besides them?

He snorted at the mere thought of Dumbledore and he could imagine all too well what color McGonagall would turn if he mentioned his love life and Draco Malfoy in the same sentence: a slight green with hints of yellow here and there. Not the prettiest sight, for sure. And Remus was off somewhere with Tonks. Then it dawned on him. Sirius! Sirius could help him! The plus side was that the Auror was currently in the school. Harry cast the _Tempus _spell: 10 on a Sunday morning. Sirius would still be sleeping in his room.

The Gryffindor went down a few stairs, followed a dusty corridor on his left and stopped in front of the portrait of an old wizard snoring on his chair. It seemed like he had had some problems with the cauldron sitting next to him, because his hair and beard were singed and sticking upwards, giving him this weird 'I'm-a-crazy-scientist' look. Harry sighed. Another ancestor of Dumby's. Joy. He was about to call the old wizard when a lady in the next painting on his right asked him whether he was looking for Auror Black.

"Why, yes I am. Do you happen to know if he's in his room?" he asked politely.

"I am sorry, dear, he left early this morning," answered the lady.

"Oh. Thank you. Have a good day," Harry said, trying not to sound too disappointed.

"Thank you dear, you too."

With a final nod, Harry dragged his feet back to the Tower. Where the heck had his godfather gone so early? Well, it was early according to Sirius standards, anyway. The Boy-Who-Lived hoped it was nothing dangerous that had his godfather up and about at such an unusual hour. Since there was no one left he could talk to, Harry decided to go back to his room. And no, he was not sulking.

oOoOo

_Somewhere in the dungeon_—

Sirius Black was having a field day.

He had recently discovered that it was terribly fun to hang out with Snape in his dog form. He was sure nobody suspected the snarky Potions Master of being so entertaining. Besides, he was really proud of being the only one able to bring the brooding professor to such a state of fury that the usually calm wizard would start shrieking like a Banshee right in the middle of his class. They were just returning from an errand—"Need more Mandrake roots," Snape had muttered to himself before storming outside. The Head of Slytherin was striding ahead with Padfoot trotting at his side and wagging his tail happily.

Severus gritted his teeth. A few days ago, he had been foolish enough to try and ask the insufferable Animagus _why_ he kept following him. The dog had merely leapt at him, barking in a very happy manner, knocking off some precious vials in the process. Severus had never asked again.

However, he would not get distracted by the mutt today. He had a very difficult potion to brew—a powerful antidote he had run low of, which was in itself an essential ingredient to many other draughts. Glad to be back in his potions lab, Severus set out to work on the thick purple liquid bubbling in the cauldron. Sirius was currently 'playing' with one of the curtains in the back of the room, shredding the dark fabric with his teeth and claws. He wondered distractedly why there were curtains in the Dungeons. He kept chewing absently while gazing at his rival, thinking. He had certainly not chosen to fall for the horrible git. They had been forced to work together during the war, after the Black name had been cleared. Sirius had come to appreciate the quick-spirited, sarcastic Slytherin, and before he had fully understood what was happening it had been too late.

Remus had accused him of being silly for not trying to do anything about it and even Harry had encouraged him to visit the Potions Master at Hogwarts, telling his godfather he did not mind as long as it made him happy. So when an Auror had been required at Hogwarts to help Dumbledore watch for potential Neo-Death-Eater-Wannabes, suspicious meetings and such, Sirius had grabbed the Minotaur by the horns and agreed to be the one to go. Now that he was here, he was really glad to have listened to Remus and Harry. By the way, it was time to remind a certain Slytherin who exactly was Hogwarts' worst nightmare.

He dropped the now useless piece of curtain and, unbeknownst to Snape, slowly sneaked up to the cauldron. He caught between his teeth some kind of shriveled root and dropped it right into the cauldron. Fascinated, Padfoot watched as the potion acquired a greenish tint before turning an offending shade of lilac; it finally settled on a nice, bright orange, which started to bubble harder and harder. And then, all hell broke loose.

Severus had just turned around to see Padfoot hovering above the cauldron and was about to say something when the potion exploded in a magnificent firework, splashing both dog and Potions Master from head to toe. The cauldron now lay empty on the ground, still smoking.

Padfoot blinked, still astonished at such a terrific reaction. Then he closed his eyes, bracing himself for the oncoming yelling. It never came though. He opened one eye to look at Snape who stood dripping, head bowed, in the middle of an orange puddle.

The Potions master took in the sight of a still dumbstruck Padfoot, his twitching nose right above the cauldron, his fur covered in orange slime and his ears dripping with the sticky mixture. Some of it trickeled down the dog's nose and he sneezed awkwardly, sending orange dripplets everywhere.

"Mphr—"

The small noise came from Snape's direction. Padfoot turned and saw the tiniest smile tugging at the Slytherin's lips. Padfoot was dumbstruck. Was the man—laughing? The dog shook his head; the potion must have gotten to his head. When he looked up, the Potions Master had his scowl back on his face.

"Black! You are in so much trouble," he stated coldly. He looked at the dog and sighed tiredly. "But first, I need a shower." Sirius's ears pricked up at this. Oblivious to his reaction, Severus kept talking. "And you seem in need of one as well, fur ball," he snapped. "I'm glad I've asked Hogwarts to set a bathroom next to my lab." He paused there, hesitating for a bit. "Come on, Black, you'll use one of the showers. Stupid Filch would kill you and then kill _me_ for letting you wander like this in his precious corridors."

For the second time in less than five minutes, Padfoot's jaw hit the ground. Severus raised a brow.

"What? Thought I loved the cat-loving fool, did you?"

The Animagus had the grace to look sheepish. The man continued his rant. "That bloody idiot is not even able to catch your godson at night, and don't even try to deny it! I know Potter is roaming free after curfew."

The dog actually _grinned_. Seeming to understand what the dog implied, Severus shouted:

"NO, Black, Draco is not the same! He needs to feed at night, so he has every right to—" he trailed off. Seeing that the dog still looked smug, he rolled his eyes in a very un-Snape-ish manner. "I don't even know why I put up with you," he muttered. "The bathroom is over there." Without waiting for an answer, he turned and strode to a hidden door in the back of the room. Padfoot cautiously followed him inside.

They were standing in a large, Slytherin green bathroom. No surprise, there. On the right side, there was a row of green stalls with fluffy rugs of the same rich shade as the floor; there were also elegant black sinks with square mirrors on the left, as well as a huge silver bathtub in the back that, just like the one in the prefects' bathroom, looked more like a swimming pool than an actual tub.

Severus turned to the dog sitting next to him.

"There you go, Black. You can change back, now." The dog merely stared back at him. The other wizard raised a brow.

"Alright. Do whatever you want, you stubborn creature, I'm going to take a shower."

He took a step towards one of the stalls, when a powerful tug on his robes caused him to fall backwards. He landed on his back with a small 'oof', thankfully right onto one of the fluffy rugs. A dark, furry mass jumped on top of him, barking contentedly. Severus pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Black. Get off this instant," he drawled.

The dog merely snuggled closer. Severus sighed. Without thinking, he started petting the few tufts of soft fur which had escaped the whole accident, wondering about the way his relationship with his 'rival' had changed. He had gotten used to having the dog around, and he had to make great efforts to remember who it actually was, and even greater efforts not to grow fond of him. The Slytherin was startled out of his thoughts when the black dog gently pressed his nose against his, before leaping off the Potions Master, his bark sounding like the mad cackling of his human form. Severus swore under his breath. Then an evil plan started to take shape in the former spy's mind. With a discreet movement of his wand, the bathtub filled itself with warm, bubbly water. He got to his feet and turned to the smug-looking Padfoot. Suddenly, he lounged at the startled dog and gathered him in his arms. He then ran to the bathtub into which he unceremoniously dropped the bundle of hair. Padfoot came back to the surface, spewing water everywhere and looking very much like a drowned puppy.

Severus smirked down at him. "That'll teach you!"

He had already turned to get back to the showers; he did not see the drenched dog swimming quickly to the edge of the tub. Padfoot quickly caught the back of the robes between his teeth and firmly pulled its owner into the tub with a great splashing sound. Severus emerged from the water, his wet hair in his eyes, spitting water in the same manner Padfoot had.

The dog barked loudly, obviously laughing quite hard.

"Black! You do realize that this means wa—"

A splash of water on his face interrupted him. Padfoot was looking at him challengingly. A crazy war ensued, complete with splashes of water everywhere, foam and bubbles flying around. Both dog and man were panting by now, soaking in the magically warmed water.

"Alright, let's call it a draw. Time for me to take a real shower," Severus said, already moving to get out of the tub. Before he could, though, he heard a whine and felt a tug on his sleeve. He turned to meet the huge puppy eyes of Sirius Black.

"Oh no, you don't," he drawled.

The dog's bottom lip started to quiver, his eyes growing even wider.

"No, I said no so don't even think about it!" he snapped.

oOoOo _An hour later_ oOoOo

Severus sighed. Why had he given in? It's not like the stupid mutt couldn't wash himself, but no, he, the most feared Potions Master of Hogwarts, whom Voldemort himself could not faze, had been defeated. All it had taken was the single look of a shaggy, stupid wet dog. He had consequently shampooed, scrubbed and dried the blasted thing, cursing all the while and berating himself for liking to pet such an insufferable animal. The worst moment had been when Hogwarts herself had provided him with special dog hair shampoo. He had thought there was no way the situation could get any more ridiculous than that, but then Padfoot had sprung out of the towel he was being dried with and lunged at the Slytherin.

The dog caught him by surprise and licked the man's cheek before bouncing out of the bathroom, his mind already set on terrifying some poor Hufflepuff.

For a few seconds, Severus had sat frozen on the bathroom floor. He finally shook himself out of his stupor. It had been a while since he had cracked a smile and he could not remember the last time he had acted like a three year old, but still. Something must be wrong with him.

Wanting to confirm a theory, he concentrated on the moments he had spent with his fluffy rival. There. It was official. It seemed there was a colony of butterflies partying in his stomach when he thought of Sirius Black. The Potions Master frowned, mentally going through a list of curse and illnesses affecting the body. What could possibly—

But of COURSE! Why hadn't it occurred to him earlier! It was obvious, now that he thought about it.

Of course.

He must have some kind of allergy to dog's hair.

oOoOo

**A/N:** Recipe by Mrs. Arthur D. Miles/Lazy AM Ranch/Bozeman, Montana in _The_ _Cowboy Cookbook_ by Verne Carlson and James DiSano, Caverne Publishing, 1999.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling; I own the ridiculous plot.

**Warning:** SLASH, LANGUAGE, OOC-NESS. This story disregards OotP, HBP and DH, which basically translates into: "lalala I can't hear you, all the characters I like are still alive."

**Pairings:** DM/HP, RW/HG, SS/SB, RL/NT

**Summary: **_He could have been anything. A Goblin. An Orc. A Mountain Troll. Hell, he could have been the King of Dwarves, for all Harry cared. But NO, of all the magical creatures, Draco Malfoy had to be a vampire.__ 7th year at Hogwarts._

**A/N: This is where I throw myself at your feet, crawl miserably, apologize again and again, beg you to forgive me for being so late, etc. I'll pass the details, they're boring and not the least bit original. By the way, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL THE REVIEWS! And a huge thank you to Ash of Mine. I owe you, mate!**

**Lujuria:**_I have not read_ A Series of Unfortunate Events _yet. I wanted to, but I didn't manage to find it. T_T_

**Draeconin:** _Thanks for your comment! The thing is, I have already kinda answered this at the beginning of chapter 7: Harry is uke in this fic. I'm trying to be original, but in order to do that, I need some 'ingredients' that everybody likes and I don't have any talent compared to all the brilliant authors out there. And here I thought I had made clear in my third chapter that Harry was anything but weak in all aspects. Seems like I still have a long way to go. I also wanted to show that Harry is not just some brave Gryffindor, just like Draco is not to be reduced to a cowardly Slytherin. That's how I see things anyway. Your idea is really interesting, but with the way I have started this fic, I can't change stuff like that, it would seem weird, don't you think? BUT, I was actually thinking about a one-shot or even a fic with your idea, it does sound interesting!_

oOoOo

Having failed to find his godfather, Harry dragged his feet back to the dorms. Lying on his bed, he kept mulling over the incident of the night before. He had tried and tried, but had finally concluded that he just could not put it all down to Malfoy's usual taunts. He was positively terrified to realize that he actually _wanted_ the attention the vampire had been giving him lately.

He had known for a while that the blonde was handsome, what with his raging hormones loudly spelling it out for him every time the Slytherin was around. It did not mean he would fall for the trick though. A voice in his head which sounded suspiciously like Mini-White Harry was telling him that Malfoy was a Slytherin, and that he should be careful around him; Harry hesitated. Another voice, this time sounding definitely like Mini-Dark Harry, cackled and pointed out that Harry himself had almost been put into Slytherin and that the blonde was more than edible, which justified about _everything_. Then a third voice – damn, it started to sound really crowded in there – intervened. Harry frowned; he did not know that voice. What was it saying, anyway?

_**You have finally come to realize that you do not know Draco Malfoy, haven't you?**_

The voice was soft and patient.

_**You refused the boy's friendship because you were defending a certain value: tolerance. **_

The voice became a bit accusing.

_**How could you, of all people, refuse to try and get to know the man he has become out of the very prejudice that lost him your friendship in the first place?**_

Harry squirmed a bit. Alright, he had to admit he did not know Malfoy-the-seventh-year-vampire. But what was the point in trying to get to know the self-centered bastard, anyway? Even if he had changed, it was too late now. The voice boomed inside his head, all traces of patience gone.

_**HARRY JAMES POTTER!**_

Yikes!

_**You will not say such an idiotic thing as "too late" to justify your own cowardice! Hasn't it ever occurred to you that you have been showing the worst of your Slytherin side lately? Enough of this cowardice! Where is the cunning? Where is the ambition? And where is the Gryffindor now? You'd better move your ass instead of wallowing in self-pity! You're seventeen! Act like it!/**_

As suddenly as it had started, the voice stopped. Harry winced. Where the heck had _that_ come from? Maybe he should talk to Madam Pomfrey, after all. No, he decided. This was something he had to do on his own. The voice was right, he was a bloody Gryffindor and he had been running from himself. Ugh. He reluctantly came to the conclusion that he had to talk with Malfoy. He gave a start when he heard the voice grumble something that sounded awfully like 'about bloody time'. Um. Right. At that very moment, Harry's stomach reminded him not so subtly that it was lunch time. Sighing, the Gryffindor went down the stairs to the common room.

"Hiya, mate! I was just about to ask if you wanted to come down for lunch," Ron said smiling at his friend. He was playing chess with Dean.

"How this dunderhead can be the best strategist in Gryffindor has to be the biggest mystery ever," the other young man grumbled upon seeing his side losing pretty badly.

"Checkmate!" Ron chirped. "C'mon guys, I'm starving!" he shouted as he bounced and disappeared through the portrait.

"Man, I swear the guy is thinking with his stomach!" Dean muttered.

"I heard that!" came Ron's voice. Dean winced. "I am so _not_ playing chess against him next time. He's gonna kill me." Harry laughed.

"You should know better than provoking him like you did. I swear, telling him he's gone all limp in the head because of all the snogging with Hermione," Harry said, shaking his head.

"You have to admit," Seamus said dreamily, "kissing the one you love makes you feel all fuzzy and warm inside, don't you think, Harry?"

The smaller Gryffindor choked and turned beet red.

"Um—"

"You coming or not?"

"Be right with you, Ron!" Harry exclaimed with obvious relief before dashing out of the portrait.

_Phew, that was close. Thank Merlin for Ron's gargantuan appetite._

oOoOo

Back in the common room, Seamus blinked. Dean frowned.

"What was that?"

"Dunno," the Irishman shrugged. "D'you think Harry's hiding something from us?"

"I don't think, I am sure_,_" Dean said firmly. "I wonder if it has anything to do with the way Malfoy has been acting around him lately," he mused.

"You noticed too? I guess it wasn't just my wishful thinking, then. The two hottest boys of Hogwarts _are_ acting strange," Seamus said thoughtfully. Then he grinned like a Cheshire cat.

"I think I'll just sit down and enjoy the show."

Dean rolled his eyes and went through the portrait, followed by a cackling Seamus.

oOoOo

Harry walked down the stairs to the Great Hall with an oblivious Ron set on full pre-eating mode.

_There's no way I'm telling anyone that Malfoy kissed me. I can't believe it myself. Of course it was nothing much, no tongue involved or anything—_

Harry nearly tripped over himself.

_Merlin! Was that regret? Or worse yet, anticipation? Bad hormones! Down! I said I was going to talk to the git, not stick my tongue down his throat!_

This brought even more mental images and Harry turned very _very_ red. He had the sudden urge to bang his head against the nearest wall. Again. How was it even possible to hate a guy's guts and want to kiss him silly at the same time?

_He's done nothing but humiliate me since the very first day, _the confused Gryffindor mused.

_**But he hasn't insulted you or your friends since last year, **_the unknown voice argued.

_He's a bloody vampire! He cannot be trusted!_

_**You trust Remus and he is a werewolf.**_

_But I _know _Remus! I know he's a good person!_

_**All the more reason to get to know Draco.**_

"Um—Harry? You alright, mate? You seem a bit tense," Ron said cautiously. While Harry had been having an interesting debate with himself, they had entered the Great Hall and sat down in their usual place.

Ron swooped down on the fettuccini Alfredo; Harry had taken a few bites, not really hungry. Hermione was reading one of her hefty tomes. Dean and Seamus, who had joined them a few seconds ago, were already making a contest of who got the Most Disgusting Mouthful, putting tons of varied things in there, chewing laboriously before opening them wide to show each other. Ginny was looking thoroughly disgusted while others just laughed at their friends' antics. The meal was coming to an end and a certain elf was getting more and more frustrated by the minute. Harry's face lay flat against the table, his arms dangling at his sides, looking utterly miserable.

"Ron, could you remind me why it always happens to _me_?" came the muffled sound of his voice.

"Jiat'sh becauje you're je bloodjy Boy-Who-Livjed," said Ron, spewing an interesting sample of his meal. Hermione stuck her nose out of her book to glare at the redhead.

"Thanks, Ron," Harry said tiredly. "Hermione, would you stop trying to dig holes through Ron's head? Reading during a meal is as rude as talking with your mouth full, you know," he added distractedly, lifting his head to look at something at the other end of the Hall.

Seamus, who was sitting on Harry's right, followed the direction in which the small Gryffindor was now unconsciously looking and smirked. _And the winner is—_

"Malfoy has been awfully quiet since the beginning of the year," Ron frowned without noticing his rapidly paling best friend. "I wonder what he's plotting."

Hermione's head shot upwards, a suspicious look on her face, ready to comment on Harry's weird behavior when he interrupted her, laughing nervously.

"But Ron, why would he be plotting anything? Voldie's dead and all. I mean, look at him, he's just—" Harry stopped when he glanced at the Slytherin who was now surrounded by a pack of fifth year Ravenclaws ready to pounce.

"Oh no, no way, not again, not now," Harry whined before jumping on his feet and running like mad towards the doors.

He ran past an astonished Hufflepuff table.

_Almost there—_

The Ravenclaws frowned as an unidentified flying object left a cloud of dust as it zoomed past their table.

_Come on—_

The Great Hall was nothing but a blur.

_Ten feet—_

He could see the huge doors ahead.

_Five—_

_Two—_

**-**TUG!**-**

Harry was struggling like a demon, trying to resist the magical force dragging him back. He clung to one of the pillars in the Hall, encircling it with his arms and legs, but the magic just pulled even harder until he let go, leaving deep nail tracks in the stone. Losing his balance, he tumbled backwards, rolled once, twice and landed in an undignified heap at Malfoy's feet.

"See, I told you it was no use, and I've made up my mind," the blonde smirked satisfactorily.

Harry was sitting on the cold floor, shaking his head to clear it.

"Are you saying that you've chosen that pitiful Lilliputian over one of us?" one of the pretty girls sneered. "We're far more intelligent and interesting than him! Alright, he's done his job by defeating You-Know-Who, but who needs him now?"

Harry flinched. Voices he thought he had forgotten came back to the surface, making his head spin.

"…_hurry, boy!…"_

"…_good for nothing…"_

"…_abnormal…"_

"…_useless…"_

"…_freak…"_

"…_no one needs you!"_

Harry shook his head again. It hurt. He hated the Dursleys and had decided not to expect any affection from them years ago, so why did it still hurt after all this time, after all he had done to prove his worth? Was he just as useless as at the very beginning?

"Fifty points from Ravenclaw," came an ice cold voice that brought Harry back to reality as everybody around gasped. Draco Malfoy kept talking in the same unforgiving voice, staring with iron eyes at the girl who had talked.

"As Head Boy, I cannot take any more points. You will not insult one of your fellow comrades," he drawled, looking every bit the Slytherin Ice Prince he was.

"Now that I've done my duty, let me tell you that you are the most disgusting thing I have ever laid eyes upon. Potter might be an awkward fool, always getting his sorry ass in trouble and all, but you have no right to judge him. It seems you have a very short memory span. You know, last year? Big War against evil Dark Lord? As for the role Potter's played in that, let me ask you something: has he stopped to wonder if you were worth saving? If you were useful? If you _deserved_ to be saved? I don't think so. It seems that selflessness is a word that contains far too many syllables for your tiny brain. Now off with you before I decide I have been too generous and give you a month of detention with Professor Snape," he ended in an icy tone.

The girl ran out sobbing followed by a cold pair of silver orbs. The rest of the group retreated as well, mortified. The atmosphere around the Slytherin table was chilling. Harry was staring at the ground, seemingly lost. The silence was stretching and everyone looked shocked and a bit guilty. Finally, Harry slowly got to his feet. Malfoy was still looking terrifying, an aura of cold wrath emanating from him. The Gryffindor was feeling incredibly relieved and a bit annoyed at the same time; he had just been protected by his nemesis. Alright, his _favorite_ nemesis, but still. The world had to be coming to an end. On the other hand, did the person he was protected by matter? Someone had actually defended him. He could count on one hand the number of persons who would do that for him.

Before thinking of what he was about to do, he took two quick steps in the vampire's direction, raised himself on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek before glaring at him.

"That doesn't mean I like you!"

He stomped out of the Great Hall, leaving a stunned Malfoy and a no less stunned Slytherin table. The other Houses as well as the professors were still blinking, having watched everything from the moment Harry had tried to run away. Harry's last thought as he left the Great Hall was that he seemed to have a real talent for dramatic exits.

The Great Hall remained silent for a while until Seamus gave a wolf-whistle, at which everybody started to talk at the same time. Draco sat back down slowly, still trying to understand what the hell had just happened and hoping he was not blushing like some silly school girl.

oOoOo

Meanwhile, Harry had fled to the Room of Requirement, looking for a place to think alone. The Room had provided him with a large space containing a huge green sofa in front of a lit fireplace. A few silver cushions were scattered here and there on the thick black carpet. Harry started to pace up and down. He could try all he wanted, it seemed he could not escape a serious conversation with Malfoy now. The git had defended him when Harry thought he would just approve with the girl and kick him while he was down so what the hell?

_I am _not _interested in Malfoy's reasons to defend me. I don't want to know, I don't want to know, I don't want to know—_

_DAMN IT, I want to know._

_To think Dumbledork said that the bond _could not _temper with our feelings. I am so not getting curious about Dra–_Malfoy_. Better not think about this anymore, _Harry thought, yawning. A nap sounded really appealing right now. The Gryffindor curled on the sofa and fell asleep at once.

oOoOo

He woke up two hours later and reluctantly walked back to Gryffindor Tower, praying that neither Hermione nor Ron were there. He really did not feel like explaining anything right now. He knew he would not escape them this time. Ron had believed him when he said it'd been an accident the first time in the Great Hall. Hermione had said nothing, but he knew that look of hers, the one saying "you're-a-dead-_chibi_-elf-if-you-don't-tell-me". Then there had been all those times when he had suddenly been tugged out of his friends' company, disappearing into the castle without leaving them time to follow him. After that, both Hermione and Ron had been throwing expectant looks at him, but seemed to respect his need for time and distance.

However, he knew his nice time of peace was over. He gave the password to the Fat Lady and cautiously entered the common room. He gave a sigh of relief. Everybody was in their dorms or in the library: he would be able to do his homework in peace. As usual, the Potion essay was a real pain. Harry did not give a flying fish about the properties of the Draught of Dizziness. Transfiguration and Charms needed a bit of research but nothing too terrible. The essay for Hagrid on the different tribes of elves left Harry wondering whether the Giant was not so subtly trying to help Harry face his heritage. DADA was fairly easy for Harry since they were supposed to revise the Patronus Charm. He spent several hours working diligently before he finally looked at his watch and realized he'd better go to the Great Hall as dinner was now being served.

Dragging his feet, he pushed the doors open and refused to meet the eyes of the students and professors there. He sat down heavily at the Gryffindor table. After spending ten minutes debating with himself, he lifted his gaze to the Slytherin table only to see that the blonde he was looking for was not there. He frowned. Where was Malfoy? Not that he was worried about the git, mind you—

OK. Just a bit, then. And it had to be the bond thing. The voice which Harry suspected to be linked with the bond itself cackled manically.

_**Except that ol' Dumby said there was no way the bond would influence your feelings and—**_

_You just _shut up, Harry thought firmly.

Things were already difficult enough as they were. Having a conversation with Draco Malfoy when said blonde was not where he was supposed to be was enough of a problem; there was no need for a bloody voice to be meddling. Harry tugged at his hair, now more than annoyed.

He'd just go to bed and see what he could do tomorrow. Who said he was procrastinating? He was just waiting for things to happen at the right time.

oOoOo

_At the other end of the castle..._

Draco Malfoy was not present at dinner for a very good reason: he could not afford to miss the appointment with his spy. They were supposed to meet down in the Dungeons, in a dark alcove next to a tapestry which represented a huge dragon burning to a crisp the brave – or idiotic, same difference – knights who had come to defy it. Draco contemplated the mess that was the last knight who'd tried to 'prove his worth'; all that was left was a pair of charred boots still smoking on the ground. Pitiful, really. From where he was standing, Draco heard footsteps. A shadow slid into the alcove and faced the vampire. Nobody ventured this far into the Dungeons, but one could never be too sure; the Slytherin cast a Silencing spell for good measure.

"Before you ask anything, let me tell you that I still don't know why I'm helping _you_ of all people. It's not like I need anything from you!" the shadow said accusingly.

Draco ground his teeth. The things you did for lo—self-interest. _Pure, egotistical_ _Slytherin self-interest_. There. Malfoys don't do sappy. Potter had just turned out to be an interesting character and he needed to know more about him.

"No, indeed, but I do need something from you. You know Harry would never tell me those things of his own free will. Besides, you'd do anything to help him, right?"

The person sighed.

"Yes," they stated firmly "I would. I'm sick of watching him retreat every day a bit further into his shell of secrecy and loneliness. I have tried to tell him it wouldn't do him any good, but he's so bloody stubborn and selfless, saying he's just happy for everyone around him and not to worry about his little person. It's downright stupid. And annoying. He really deserves to be happy." The spy frowned. "And that's why I _can't_ _believe_ I'm betraying him like that. No one would ever _think_ I'd ever betray him!"

Draco rolled his eyes. "And that's exactly why _you're_ the spy."

"No duh."

The blonde ignored the comment. "So where did we stop last time? Oh yes, tell me more about that pig Dursley."

_**A/N:**__**Please, don't slaughter me yet, I can explain.**__ I know this chapter is weird and a bit more moralistic but hey, the story has to move on. Somehow. I promise chapter 10 is less angsty and just, well, better. Or less worse. Whatever. __**So, does anybody have an idea about who the spy is?**__ Vampire action will finally arrive! Thanks for reading!_


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling; I own the ridiculous plot.

**Warning:** SLASH, LANGUAGE, OOC-NESS. This story disregards OotP, HBP and DH, which basically translates into: "lalala I can't hear you, all the characters I like are still alive."

**Pairings:** DM/HP, RW/HG, SS/SB, RL/NT

**Summary: **_He could have been anything. A Goblin. An Orc. A Mountain Troll. Hell, he could have been the King of Dwarves, for all Harry cared. But NO, of all the magical creatures, Draco Malfoy had to be a vampire.__ 7th year at Hogwarts._

**A/N: Thank you reviewers/readers! **Here's chapter 10. As for the results of the "spy contest", you'll have to wait until it's the right moment in the story or there would be no suspense. ^^' **Thank you Ash of Mine!** We're all waiting for Harry l'Ensorcelé to be translated!

oOoOo

Harry rolled over for the umpteenth time on his bed. Buried under the thick blankets, he cursed himself again for napping in the afternoon. He knew damn well that it made it all the more difficult for him to sleep at night. He sighed. He knew he was being awfully predictable these days; he got up anyway. Yes, he would go and fly for a bit, so what? Catching his Snitch a couple of times would help him get tired enough to go to sleep. He threw on some random clothes, grabbed his broom and stopped, wondering where the heck he had put his Snitch. After searching for a good ten minutes, he smacked himself on the forehead. He was a goddamn wizard, for Circe's sake! He grabbed his wand on his nightstand. Aware of his sleeping roommates, he muttered softly: "_Accio_ Snitch!"

A few seconds passed. Then—

THUNK!

Harry frowned. He must have been imagining things.

"_Accio_ Snitch!" he repeated.

THUNK!

Harry frowned again. Something was wrong. He had to know where that noise came from.

"_Accio_ Snitch!" he said again.

THUNK!

He turned around quickly, just in time to see Mrs. Norris, sliding down outside the window pane, her eyes in the shape of crosses and her tongue sticking out.

"What the bloody buggering—"

And then it hit him. That flee bitten carpet had swallowed his precious Snitch, and the summoning charm had made her fly all the way up from outside, trying to bring in the Snitch currently residing somewhere in the cat's stomach. Harry pinched the bridge of his nose. Alright. No flying for tonight. Mrs. Norris was still knocked out from the three nasty blows she had received and kept gliding flat against the window, her chops sliding with a sickening suction sound. Sighing, Harry opened it – the window, not the cat; he had hesitated a bit but had decided against getting back his Snitch right now, the damn cat should be glad he was feeling generous – and levitated Mrs. Norris inside.

Well. He could still go for a walk; he had to get the moth-eaten cat out of Gryffindor Tower anyway. Silently, he put on his invisibility cloak and levitated Mrs. Norris. Once they were out of the Tower, he dumped the offending animal near an armor.

_Serves you right, you Snitch-eating furball! _He mentally sneered. He then went down the stairs, thinking that he might as well grab something to eat in the kitchens. Having focused on watching out for Filch's or Snape's names on the Marauders' map, Harry got a nasty shock when he reached the Entry Hall.

_Merlin, I'm cursed! _he thought desperately as he looked at the person who was about to go outside. _Everybody_ could go outside and be seen by _anybody_ at _any_ hour of the bloody day but no, it had to be _now_, it had to be _himself_ and it had to be _Draco Malfoy_ in all his vampiric glory. Harry gulped upon seeing the Slytherin come closer to him.

_AAAAARGH! Secret weapons #2 and #3 are out! Nooooo!_

Doomed, he was doomed. Not only had the blonde let his hair loose and gel-free but he was also wearing a tight pair of black jeans, as well as a smooth black silk shirt that turned Harry's insides into a very mushy something. As Harry stood frozen on the spot, the Slytherin suddenly turned his head in his direction. His eyes were a bright molten silver and terribly alive; there was this air of anticipation to him that sent shivers down the Gryffindor's spine. Harry gulped again. Never had he been so acutely aware that Malfoy was a _vampire_. The elf fervently hoped that he would not be considered as some sort of vampire-Mr. Freeze – blood flavor, ew – since it was pretty obvious that the blonde had been about to go hunt in the Forbidden Forest.

"Potter. No need to hide under your cloak you know, I can smell you from here," the Vampire stated calmly.

Harry was suddenly annoyed. He ripped off his cloak and took a few strides towards Draco.

"Go on, say that I stink, you git!" Harry pouted. Draco blinked at him, caught off guard. Then, to Harry's astonishment, he burst out laughing.

It was such a natural, beautiful laugh—

Harry found himself unable to move. Malfoy's laughter was not supposed to sound so nice. The small wizard was torn between yelling at the Slytherin for making fun of him and doing again whatever he had done that had made Malfoy laugh so he could listen to that crystal-clear sound forever. Harry grimaced. He sounded like a real sap, but Merlin helped him he was fascinated by Malfoy's laughing face. He seemed so—human, quite paradoxically. Harry knew very well that Malfoys did not show any kind of emotion and it made him even happier to have elicited such a strong reaction. What intrigued him most though was the fact that he could not detect a single trace of nastiness in that laugh. Doomed, lost for good. He really was. Malfoy had combined all three secret weapons and Harry had to kick himself mentally not to reach for the beautiful face in front of him.

_C'mon, Potter, that's Malfoy you're dealing with! Get a fucking grip! _he mentally yelled at himself. Finally, after what seemed like centuries but had only lasted a few seconds, Draco stopped laughing and stared at his so-called nemesis.

"You never cease to amaze me, Potter," he said, a joyous glint in his eyes. "When I say I can smell you, I mean that I can detect your presence and that I know your scent, that's all."

"What are you, a dog?" Harry sniffed, still pouting a bit.

"Nope, a vampire."

"Hn. Silly question."

"You don't say."

"Right. Um—right," Harry said, wracking his brain to remember what he was supposed to say. He did not need to because at that very moment, Draco nodded at the huge doors and went out. Harry followed him without hesitating. The Slytherin sat down on the stairs leading out of the castle and spoke again.

"So, what brings you here at this time of the night, midget?"

Accepting the silent invitation for a civil conversation, Harry carefully walked over to the blonde and sat down at the other end of the step, a few feet away from the tall vampire. Just in case the latter suddenly went crazy and started hugging Harry or even worse, kissing him.

Yup. They needed to talk.

Harry visibly hesitated before deciding to speak truthfully. He did want honest answers so he might as well start with himself and tell the truth, right?

"I couldn't sleep because I've taken a nap that was far too long." _Oooh, that was soooo interesting, Potter! _he thought derisively.

"Seems like you're doing that a lot. You should be careful, you need all the sleep you can get or I might finally beat you at the next Quidditch match," Draco teased.

Harry smiled a bit before frowning. "How do you know I take long naps all the time?"

The Slytherin waved it off. "I'm a Malfoy, I know everything."

"Ugh, you sound like Hermione," Harry made a face.

Draco choked. "How dare you compare me to her when—"

Harry waited for the Mudblood comment, already frowning.

"—my hair is so much nicer than hers!" the Slytherin said haughtily.

It was Harry's turn to choke and he burst out laughing.

"Is that all Her Majesty has to say?" the Gryffindor smirked.

"No, I'm better than her at Potions." The blonde grimaced. "It pains me to say it's actually the only subject I manage to beat her at. I swear that girl knows far too much for her own good." He grumbled.

"What, no 'Mudblood'?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"Nope, sorry to disappoint. That was part of the 'Brainwash Act'. You know, when your only choice to survive is to pretend you want to be a Perfect Little Death Eater, you don't do things by halves. I'm a Slytherin; I think of my own survival before I think of the consequences of my actions."

There was a pause. Then Draco said slowly, looking suspicious: "Is this the part where I'm supposed to say that I'm sorry I insulted your friends since first year, and you confess that you've been secretly in love with me all those years?"

"Keep dreaming, Malfoy," Harry said through gritted teeth. _Oooh don't tempt me—_

"Good, cause I don't plan to give some silly apology. I'm not sorry I had to torment you and your friends all those years because it was fun, don't you think?" he grinned.

Harry spluttered.

Yet, deep down, he knew Malfoy was right. Their competition had given him a reason to keep reaching always higher, to get always better. The insults they had traded until then had just been another form of competition, and he'd never been bored with someone like Drac–_Malfoy_ around.

"I can't believe this was all an act," Harry mused. "Actually, it does make some kind of sense, when I think about the way you tortured poor Ron," he said dramatically. Again, Harry hesitated. "But there's something I still don't understand. Why did you defend me at lunch? Was it the bond forcing you, like it's dragging me down to you every time you're in danger?" he asked with such honesty that Draco had to slap himself mentally not to reach for the smaller boy.

"I—No, it wasn't the bond," the vampire said, looking down at his hands in his lap. "It just wasn't right," he shook his head, annoyed at the mere memory.

"But fifty points for this—" Harry tried.

"—was not enough to punish that stupid bitch," Draco growled. "I wish I had given her detention after all. Snape would have been delighted to have a personal slave to carry his awful mixtures around for a month," the blonde muttered. "Don't think I was acting all nice for the sake of it. I also said you were an awkward fool, always getting your sorry ass in trouble and I do think that is the case," he sneered. Harry said nothing, sensing the blonde was not done. Indeed, Draco scowled and started playing with his shoelaces. Anything to avoid looking at the black-haired boy next to him. "I really meant what I said. Because you did what people expected the righteous and oh-so-great Harry Potter to do, they all think they've had you figured out. Now that you've rid us of the Dark Lord they think you're just another nice little Gryffindork, ready to settle in a nice little cottage and lead a quiet life. That's a load of bollocks. As your 'enemy' here at school, I've been watching you for years and I know you're not as simple as people would like you to be. I don't know exactly why or how, but I know you're not who you pretend to be in front of everyone. There are some things you're absolutely incapable of hiding – but there are also other details that I'm sure Granger and the Weasel don't even suspect. Sometimes I can't help thinking that you would have done brilliantly in Slytherin," he trailed off.

Harry was dumbfounded.

"How— When— Why—" he tried successively, forgetting to take offense on his best friends' behalf.

"As articulate as ever, midget," the Vampire smirked, relieved to change the subject of their surreal conversation.

"You're one to talk, blondie! You forgot that I've been watching you as well, thinking you might be dangerous! And that's exactly why I didn't understand anything that time in sixth year: you saved a first year Slytherin who was being bullied by members of her own house; I was under my invisibility cloak and I thought you'd just join in the bashing. I was about to cast some nasty curse, but _you_ did it instead. You cursed your House fellows to defend her, when it wasn't even in your interest to do so." Harry smirked. "This could actually be some good blackmail material: the Slytherin Ice Prince actually has a heart, and acts like a Gryffindor too! Imagine that! Half of your yearmates would die from heart failure. That is – if they do have a heart," Harry added as an afterthought. "Strangely, it's not the heart that I doubt much; rather the brain, actually."

"Pains me to say it, but you couldn't be more right. Think about Crabbe and Goyle—and Parkinson—and Bulstrode—" Draco trailed off again.

Both boys shuddered at the thought.

"By the way," Draco said nonchalantly "thanks for saving me that time. Bulstrode hasn't even so much as looked in my direction ever since." The Slytherin grinned. "Care for a reward?"

"NO!" Harry yelled, jumping backwards.

Draco raised a brow.

"I mean—um—no thanks," the Gryffindor muttered, blushing. "I saved you, you saved me, we're square," he added nervously.

"But you don't even know what I was going to offer!" the blonde said in a fake indignant tone.

"That's because I don't _want_ to know, thank you very much," Harry retorted, inching away from the taller wizard. There was no way he was going to talk about the kiss, now. Damn that confusing, stupid vampire!

"Awww, come on, it's just a little hug, there," the Slytherin tried to persuade him.

Harry said nothing but blushed even harder. Draco's smirk became feral.

"What? Did you have something else in mind?"

"NO!" Harry shouted again, completely panicked.

"You'll have to _thank_ me for that Silencing charm of mine anyway, or we'd definitely have Filch after us right now," the blonde said casually.

Harry squirmed. This was ridiculous; he did not owe anything to Malfoy. So why was his conscience nagging at him? Seeing that his plan might fail, Draco intervened.

"You know, I might let it slip to Granger that you were the one who put the frogs in her bed last time you were angry with her."

The Gryffindor gasped.

"How do you even—" he started before realizing he was being blackmailed. "Draco Malfoy, you are an evil, nasty, monstruous _Slytherin_," he glared. "And there's a stain on your shirt," he added innocently.

"UH? Where, _where_?" the Slytherin frantically scanned his black shirt, looking for the offending thing. Only when he heard Harry's laughter did he realize that there was no such thing as a stain. Draco lunged at the elf. "You traitorous, lying little—"

"Eeeep!" Harry ran for dear life. For a few minutes, he had forgotten whom he was talking to.

_**The guy you saved from lustful students?**_

_Yes, definitely that guy._

_**The one who started hugging you at every opportunity?**_

_Yup, that would be the one._

_**The one who kissed you last night?**_

_UGH, not bloody helping there! _Harry mentally yelled at the disturbing voice.

_**Helping? But I **_am _**helping. I'm helping him catch you,**_ the voice concluded smugly.

_You WHAT?_

But it was too late, Draco had pounced after an short chase on the bare grounds of Hogwarts.

"Eeeep!" Harry squeeked.

"Gotcha!" Draco said victoriously as he pounced on his prey. They had landed near the edge of the Forest. Harry was a bit worried about his situation – which option would be better? Death by vampire or Forbidden Forest? – but let nothing show.

"Hey, that was unfair, you're a bloody vampire!" he tried to glare at the Slytherin, but the effect was sort of lost on the blonde who was currently smirking down at him.

"Yes, but you're an elf, you could do better than that," the silver-eyed boy said patronizingly.

"I'm an elf, not some bloody gazelle!" the Gryffindor retorted. "Now if you'd be so kind as to get _off_ me—"

He noticed too late that the Vampire had leaned down, eyes glazing over.

"Did you know that you smell _really_ good, Harry. So good. So _hungry—_"

Uh oh. No good.

Draco had his eyes closed, face hovering above Harry's neck, savoring the enticing smell of rich, powerful blood, wood and grass that was Harry who was trying really hard not to panic.

"Malfoy? MALFOY! Listen to me! You're not in your right mind and—" he was interrupted by Draco's face nuzzling his neck.

"Need— Blood— Please Harry?"

The black-haired boy was stunned. Was Draco asking him for permission? That meant he could deny it and run back to the safety of the castle—

_**But you were the one who held him up! He was on his way to feed and you prevented him from doing just that! It's your fault he's lost control of his instincts!**_

Harry felt a bit guilty. The voice was right.

_**And there's also the fact that you absolutely **_love _**the way he says your name,**_ the voice quipped, back to its smug self.

_Shut UP!_

Harry finally gathered all of his Gryffindor courage.

"Alright, Draco," he said in a whisper. He had not even realized he had called the vampire by his first name. Draco's eyes glowed brightly before he lowered his face onto Harry's neck again. The poor elf was sure his time had come. For a second, he wondered if he was supposed to pray for his soul or say some kind of grand sentence for the generations to come, but no one was here to record it, anyway. Should he keep his eyes open and face death, or should he just close them and wait? The latter option sounded very reasonable right now, and so he did. He was ready for anything.

Well, anything except the soft warm lips on his neck, gently licking and nibbling at the patch of skin covering the throbbing vein. The Gryffindor's eyes shot open. That was not part of the script! He was about to protest when Draco left a trail of kisses along his jaw. And Harry melted. He now lay completely limp in the vampire's arms, who soon got back to that patch of soft skin. After one last lingering kiss, Harry felt two sharp teeth sink into his neck; he cried out. Yet, when he thought he would just pass out, the pain suddenly disappeared.

_What the—?_

In its stead, he could feel a warm sensation growing in his body, catching him by surprise; some kind of magic seemed to be coursing through his veins, leaving him feeling complete and rested and _free._ For a few seconds, he wondered distractedly if he was flying, but his foggy brain finally managed to tell him he was certainly _not_ flying as that would have been extremely uncomfortable. Seriously, who would agree to get bitten by a vampire while flying? And who in their right mind would even _agree_ to get bitten by a vampire in the first place? Maybe a normal person. Yup. Definitely normal. Who was normal, already? Well. Certainly not Harry, this was _way_ too good.

The Gryffindor knew his mind was rambling, but he couldn't bring himself to care. It had been so long since he had felt that good. He couldn't even remember if he had _ever_ felt that good in his life. Once he was sated, Draco gave a final lick to the wound to close it.

"Nnnn—Draco? Ya a'righ' now?" the Gryffindor slurred, still in a drunk-like state.

Having recovered from his Hunger, Draco was momentarily stunned.

_Merlin. Trust the bloody Boy-Who-Lived to ask if _I _am alright when he was the one bitten, _he thought. Shaking his head, the Slytherin answered softly: "Yes, I'm alright, Harry."

"Goo'! Me too," Harry giggled before he fell sound asleep. The blonde quickly gathered the unconscious form in his arms, looking at the peaceful face. The silver orbs briefly turned bright green before going back to their usual color.

"Thank you."

The elf smiled in his sleep.

"Boy-Who-Lived or not, there's no way I'm letting you go now," the blonde muttered before heading back towards the castle. He had to bring his precious bundle to Madam Pomfrey.


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling; I own the ridiculous plot.

**Warning:** SLASH, LANGUAGE, OOC-NESS. This story disregards OotP, HBP and DH, which basically translates into: "lalala I can't hear you, all the characters I like are still alive."

**Pairings:** DM/HP, RW/HG, SS/SB, RL/NT

**Summary: **_He could have been anything. A Goblin. An Orc. A Mountain Troll. Hell, he could have been the King of Dwarves, for all Harry cared. But NO, of all the magical creatures, Draco Malfoy had to be a vampire.__ 7th year at Hogwarts._

**A/N: A big thank you to everyone who reviewed/read/bore with me.**

**Et marci boucou, Badger-chan !**

**Elle: **Encounter with Dumbles; check :)

**Lintila and olupotter18: **this chapter will answer your question. Well. Hopefully.

_This chapter is dedicated to:_ **hyperRme **and **Ater Phasma**, whose reviews made me laugh out loud right in the middle of the library. Now everybody _knows_ I'm a weirdo.

oOoOo

_**Sunday morning, 7:24 AM**_

Harry woke up to the sound of a growl; a very threatening, feral kind of growl.

"Mr. Malfoy, would you _please_ let go of Mr. Potter here. For Godric's sake, you were the one who brought him here in the first place so let me just check on him and—"

The low rumble grew dangerously louder. That's when Harry realized he could hear said rumble very well for it was coming from his pillow. _Huh?_ his brain provided unhelpfully. Since when did he go and sleep on growling pillows? He moved a bit to see what was going on, and that's when his pillow hugged him even tighter.

—whatever_._

Still looking very much asleep, Harry slowly lifted his head and struggled to get his eyes to open only to find a pair of silver orbs peering down into his face. Alright, everything was fine then. He let his head fall back onto his 'pillow' with a contented sigh and went back to sleep.

oOoOo

_**Earlier the same day, 3:32AM**_

Sometimes, life sucked.

Draco Malfoy found himself agreeing with what had to be one of the silliest and truest sayings ever.

The time it had taken for him to go all the way back to the castle and then all the way up to the infirmary had been enough for the situation to sink in and for the vampire to realize what a mess he had landed himself into this time. And it was all Har–_Potter's _fault. Like always. Potter was the one who got into trouble. So what if Draco ended up following the Gryffindor? It had been nice to see the elf's reaction because of the so-called bond; the Slytherin had been fine with the whole Hugging Monster thing because it was fun to scare the wits out of a pretty thing like Potter. He was a Malfoy: who was he to deny beauty even if it was in the person of Potter?

However, Draco Malfoy belonged to these people who thought there was no such thing as love. The whole "love" concept was just a fluke, a myth of some sort to reassure small children. Besides, it always happened to others, never to you. A bit like that weird money game the Muggles were so fond of. The "lot eerie", was it? Anyway. The sexual attraction, the blonde could deal with. He was a Malfoy and a vampire, so he did appreciate beautiful people for what they were: pretty things. So Draco had been content to merely watch the elf all this time, taking in the myriad of expressions his face and eyes could reflect. But then it had to get all bloody complicated, because somewhere along the lines Draco had started to care. Him. A Malfoy.

The Slytherin stomped his foot angrily. That was certainly _not_ supposed to happen. Har–_Potter_ had cheated. That was it! It was definitely unfair. All a Malfoy had to care for in life was himself, his hair, his looks, his money and his superior upbringing in a society of peasants. What gave Potter the right to make him enjoy the few moments they spent together, bickering and talking and playing around? Even worse, how dare he make Draco feel just—well, _nice_ when he was in his presence? And that bloody bond did not make things any easier_; _Draco had just lost control of his vampire instincts, and Potter had _not_ run away like any reasonable person would have in this situation. Stupid, nosey, chivalrous, adorable Gryffindork.

Draco arrived at the infirmary carrying a fast asleep Gryffindor. He deposited him on one of the beds, checked that everything was alright with the raven-haired boy and started pacing. His mother had told him that after being bitten, all a person needed was a good night's sleep as well as a solid breakfast. The nurse would still be able to check on Potter later. Plus, Draco got to spend the night next to the green-eyed beauty. That finally erased his remaining doubts; he decided against waking up Madam Pomfrey before the morning came. He gently lay down on the bed, enjoying the soothing presence of his ex-nemesis. He had just closed his eyes when he felt the elf draw closer, unconsciously drawn to the warm body next to his. Draco smirked slightly. The awakening sure promised to be interesting. He did not linger on the thought; he brought his arms around the dark-haired wizard and promptly fell asleep.

Alas, far too soon...

"MR. MALFOY! WHAT ARE YOU—"

Draco jerked awake and instinctively tightened his hold on the small body on top of his. Without thinking, he cast a wandless Silencing Charm in the approximate direction of the horrible shriek. At last, the vampire took the time to look at his surroundings, trying to remember where he was. There was a white ceiling, white walls, white curtains, white sheets, a very red Madam Pomfrey, a white floor, white—

Uh oh. He had not done what he thought he had done, had he? Why the heck would he be in the infirmary in the first p—

He looked down at the form breathing softly on his chest. Right. Har – _Potter_, he was here to make sure Potter was alright. Well. He seemed to be, sleeping like the dead in spite of the rather noisy interruption. Draco noted distractedly that Madam Pomfrey had yet to break his Silencing Charm. He frowned. She was a full grown-up witch, she should be able to throw it off easily, so why—

That's when he felt it. The subtle change in his magic. The way his arms were around the elf.

Merlin.

He was a _bonded_ Vampire.

_No no no, you're a Malfoy and Malfoys do __**not**__ hyperventilate._ _Breathe, Draco, BREATHE! There, you got it. Now, think about this and keep your cool._

_Fact number one: you've got a chibi elf who's happily using you as his pillow. Now, that sounds awfully familiar, but nothing to worry about, right?_

_Fact number two: it seems your magic has received a major boost since the nurse_ – _who's currently flailing her arms in some sort of weird giant hummingbird impression_ – _is still unable to shriek like a mad banshee, which is a definite improvement._

_Fact number three: it seems that said magic is now connected to aforementioned chibi elf. You are now the happy creature bonded to Harry Potter._

_..._

_But that does not make any sense! _

Had they had hair, Draco's braincells would have been pulling them out by now.

_The magical bond is supposed to be complete only after the two people concerned have—well, after they—_

_Wait. Waitwaitwait. Did that mean that they had—?_

Draco gulped and looked down again at his supposedly mate. Who was currently wearing the tiniest of smiles.

_Merlin, _was Draco's first thought.

_I wish I remembered, _was his second.

_Now where did THAT come from?_ was his third.

Then the blonde finally recalled the series of events from the previous night: nothing of the sort had happened. He breathed out a deep sigh of relief. Not disappointed. Nope. Not at all. The tall Slytherin groaned. He was not supposed to look forward to that kind of activity, because he was not supposed to get _attached_. He was a Malfoy! He had a whole life of celibacy, mad orgies and wicked parties to lead before settling down with a mate!

It was too late, now. He did not know exactly how, but he was bonded. He had his own mate. Harry Potter was _his_. The Slytherin had just squished the inner voice that had _dared_ to giggle at that thought when he perceived a movement out of the corner of his eye. Before he knew what he was doing, his newly awoken instincts kicked in and a low growl erupted from his throat. _His_. He had to protect his mate from the mad banshee. His eyes flashed a bright green before returning to their not-so-usual silver. Ten long seconds passed in a very tense silence. Finally, when he had forced himself to calm down a bit, Draco turned to look straight at the human who was standing frozen on the spot. He narrowed his eyes menacingly before mentally freeing her from the Silencing Charm.

His watchful gaze never left a very confused Madam Pomfrey who was trying hard to process what the hell was happening. She was smart enough to understand that there was something unusual in the way Draco Malfoy was behaving; she came to the conclusion that his strange behavior must have something to do with the person resting in his arms – which had made her shriek in the first place. So without realizing the gravity of her actions, not only did she break eye contact with the vampire, she did so in order to take a look at the very object of his instinctive possessiveness.

oOoOo

And that brings us to the present situation featuring a sleeping Harry Potter, a smirking Draco Malfoy and a very, very confused Madam Pomfrey. The poor woman had blinked and blinked again. What were those two doing together? It was just like that time when Malfoy carried Potter bridal style and—

Oh.

OH!

Madam Pomfrey suddenly went very red. People never did notice how beautiful the floor was so she made sure she stared at it hard enough to make sure it – stayed white. There.

"Right. Ahem. I guess I'll just, um, check on Mr. Potter later," she muttered while still admiring the spotless floor. Draco flashed her a toothy grin and went back to auto-congratulating himself on being trustworthy enough for the Gryffindor to fall asleep in his arms.

oOoOo

_**7:36 AM**_

"Headmaster?"

The old wizard looked up from the twenty-storied pyramid of lemon drops he was currently building.

"My dear Poppy, what brings you here on such a fine morning of—er, what month is it, already? Oh by the way, have you seen my purple and green striped socks? I wonder if the ghoul from the fifth floor has anything to do with their suspicious disappearance. That creature tends to get awfully jealous of my incredible sense of fashion. I shall inquire into this matter very soon and Justice shall once again triumph over Evil, and—were you about to say something, dear?"

The nurse had waited politely until the somewhat oblivious headmaster of Hogwarts remembered her presence.

"Yes, actually, Albus, I am afraid it concerns our two young rivals. I think I need to speak to their respective godfathers about this new, um, _development_ in their relationship."

"Hmm? Oh, do tell them, they will be positively delighted, I am sure," the old wizard muttered distractedly while getting down on all fours, seemingly looking for something under his desk.

"Albus? What are you doing?"

"I have lost It."

"I—I beg your pardon?"

"'It', my hamster. I am sure he was here not two minutes ago. Go on and speak to Severus and Sirius, dear. I shall join you all at the infirmary soon."

The nurse sweat-dropped. Why was she working for this mad old wizard again? Oh yeah, because he was the wisest mad old wizard in the world. Right.

oOoOo

_**7:48 AM**_

"Black! What are you doing here!" the already annoyed Potions Master exclaimed.

Sirius stopped and blinked. He then looked in fake surprise at himself and all around him.

"Well, it seems that I am walking down a corridor that happens to lead to the infirmary. Why?" the Animagus added in a scared voice. "Is there some kind of trap somewhere? Am I in danger?" he said fearfully. "SEEEEVVIIIIE! Heeeelp! I don't wanna die! Save me from the monsters!" he shrieked, throwing himself into the other man's arms and hugging him like a teddy bear.

Severus blinked. _What happened? _He shook his head. _Why me?_ He sighed.

"Black. If you still want to live and if you have some sort of brain left, which I very much doubt, you will immediately remove your hands from my person," he said in his usual icy tone. He waited for a few seconds but nothing happened.

"Black! Are you bloody deaf?" he barked.

"Nope. You said you doubted I had any brain left; if I don't, it means I don't have to 'remove my hands from your person', is that correct?"

The Slytherin pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Alright. If you don't let go of me in the next three seconds, I'll tell Madam Pomfrey that you need an injection with a huuuuge needle."

Sirius suddenly looked up with a very worried expression. "You wouldn't _dare_!"

"How well do you know me?" Severus said nonchalantly, examining his nails.

The Gryffindor let go so fast that Severus wondered for a moment if he had dreamed the sensation of the other man in his arms.

_Dream? What kind of dream would that be? It'd be a nightmare! _he firmly said to himself.

"So. Back to my first question: what are you doing here?"

Sirius pouted. "Poppy told me she wanted to talk to me about something important."

Severus frowned. "She told me the same thing. What could it possibly be about?" he mused.

"Dunno. I just went past Dumbledore who was yelling 'I've found it, I've found it!' like a loony. I suppose it's not about him, then."

"Hn. Let's go and find out."

"..."

"..."

"And why, pray tell, are you holding my hand?"

Sirius grinned. "It's because I don't want to get eaten by a monster."

"..."

"Needles. Huge, pointy needles—"

"EEEEEP! Alright, alright! Killjoy," the Animagus mumbled.

Severus merely smirked at his sulking companion as they both resumed their walk to the infirmary.

oOoOo

_**7:53 AM**_

Harry had slept wonderfully. Even the weird dream about Malfoy biting him near the Forest could not spoil that.

"Morning," his pillow said.

"Mngh? M'nin'."

Okay. What had he done the previous night? He had this dreadful feeling at the back of his mind—he cracked one eye open and slowly looked up to find the smirking face of none other than his favorite worst enemy. With a squeak – a _manly_ one, thank you very much – he fell off the bed.

"M–M–Malfoy, wh–what are you doing here!"

"Oh, but Harrykins, I thought after all the _wicked_ things we've done, you'd call me by my first name," Draco said batting his lashes.

Harry paled considerably.

"We WHAT!"

A pause.

"BWAHAHAHA! You should have seen your face! Merlin! That was priceless!"

Harry blinked. Powerful emotions were currently swirling in him. Confusion, relief, disappointment, confusion again. Then it dawned on him. Malfoy had made fun of him.

Draco was laughing so hard that he failed to notice the gloomy cloud appearing around the young wizard still sitting on the ground. He also failed to notice when the same wizard slowly got to his feet, his head still down, his hair falling into his face, a vein throbbing on his forehead. Then, without further warning, the raven-haired boy jumped on top of the blonde and forced him back onto the mattress.

"Thought that was funny, did you?" the Gryffindor growled.

Draco stopped laughing. His breath caught in his throat as he looked up to see a very pissed Harry Potter whose hair was floating around his face with the magic swirling around them; the Slytherin found he could not move his eyes from the glowing green orbs above him. It suddenly occurred to him that Harry was straddling him quite comfortably, his hands resting on each side of the blonde strands, leaning close. So close that their noses were practically touching.

The vampire swallowed with difficulty. He was _not_ turned on. No sir. Not at all. And he was certainly _not_ about to close the distance between their mouths when he heard a mocking voice.

"Are we interrupting something?"

Harry fell off the bed for the second time in less than ten minutes. Draco sat up to see a smirking Sirius Black as well as a slightly greenish godfather of his. The Gryffindor emerged from the other side of the bed looking very red. "It's not what it looks like!"

"Really?" the Animagus said smugly, crossing his arms in a 'I-would-like-to-hear-what-lie-you-think-will-save -you' gesture.

"I'm not—He's—We just—" Harry spluttered.

"As articulate as ever, Mr. Potter," Severus sneered after he recovered from the shock of seeing his godson in such a compromising situation with the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Make-His-Life-A-Living-Hell.

"Harry accepted to be my blood donor last night, so I brought him here to make sure there weren't any complications," Draco explained calmly.

"That true, Harry?"

Harry blushed a bright red from his sitting position on the floor before nodding slightly.

"Tsk tsk, Severus, would you please pick up your jaw from the floor, it's not very becoming you know."

The Potions Master glared daggers at the Animagus.

"Don't you 'tsk tsk' me, mutt. I have every right to be worried about my godson's mental health and if I were you, I would be even more worried about _your_ godson's mental health!"

"Oh, but I didn't know you _cared_, Sevvie."

"Why you evil, blasted little—"

While their godfathers started to bicker yet _again_, Draco turned to Harry. "Climb back up."

Harry glared. "Why would I want to be up there with you?"

"Because you can't live without me?" Draco asked with an innocent look.

"—try again."

The two started a glaring match before Draco finally exploded: "_Fine_, because you're going to catch a cold on the damn floor so shut up and come back here!"

He helped a blinking Harry get back on the bed and tucked him under the warm covers. A slow smirk made its way on Harry's face. "Why, _Draco_, if I didn't know you better, I'd say you ca—"

"Shut up! I don't _care_!" the Slytherin huffed, crossing his arms and looking away. There was a slight tinge of red on his cheeks. Harry's mind went blank. He looked at Draco thoughtfully before making up his mind; he reached up and pulled the blonde back into a lying position. When the vampire looked at him questioningly, he nodded in the direction of their still arguing godfathers.

"We might as well sleep a bit more while those two finish their oh-so-interesting conversation."

Draco stared at Harry for a few seconds before doing what he was advised to. Then he grumbled something.

"What was that?"

"I said I'm sorry for making fun of you," the blonde muttered. Harry could only nod, utterly surprised. A Malfoy apologizing? Was the world coming to an end?

_Nah, too early to think._

The elf closed his heavy lids. He did not say anything when he felt an arm tentatively sneak around his waist. After a short internal debate, he merely scooted closer and went back to sleep. He could always blame this on the lack of sleep or something. Even if he did seem to sleep a lot these days.

oOoOo

A few moments later, the bickering pair finally noticed that there was no noise coming from the bed anymore. They stopped their argument to take in the scene of their godsons sleeping peacefully, curled together on the starch white bed.

Sirius scratched the back of his head. "Well. I don't know much about the situation, but I've got a good feeling about this," he said smiling.

Severus turned to add his two scathing Sickles, but his voice caught in his throat upon seeing the laughing blue eyes and the happy smile on the Animagus' face. He frowned. Something felt wrong with his stomach. And he was feeling all fuzzy for some reason. Could it be that he still had dog hair on his robes? Because he knew that somehow this feeling was connected to the man next to him. Damn mutt!

"Severus? You alright?" Sirius asked with a frown, waving in front of the other man.

"Don't come any closer!" the Head of Slytherin warned, now very worried about the weird feelings he was having all of a sudden. Perhaps some kind of magical flu? Yes, that had to be it. Magical, dog hair-induced influenza—

Sirius raised a brow, waiting for some further explanation. Severus pointed an accusing finger at his not-so-ex-rival. "I do not know what you did to me, but you will pay for this!"

And just like that he turned and left through the door with a dramatic swirl of his black robes. Sirius chuckled in the silence of the infirmary. "I have no idea what you're talking about, but I can assure you that I'm already paying for this."

He took a last look at the sleeping teens. "Hn. There's nothing to talk about. _I_ knew it before _they_ did. As for Severus—well. I don't think he wants to hear about and much less talk about this." He walked back to the door. "It's settled then," he said in a cheery voice. "Oh, and Draco, you might be my cousin and Severus' godson, but I will rip you to tiny bits if you even think of hurting him," he concluded happily before closing the door behind him.

Silence fell on the infirmary.

"As if I would, you git," an annoyed voice muttered from the bed.


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling; I own the ridiculous plot.

**Warning:** SLASH, LANGUAGE, OOC-NESS. This story disregards OotP, HBP and DH, which basically translates into: "lalala I can't hear you, all the characters I like are still alive."

**Pairings:** DM/HP, RW/HG, SS/SB, RL/NT

**Summary: **_He could have been anything. A Goblin. An Orc. A Mountain Troll. Hell, he could have been the King of Dwarves, for all Harry cared. But NO, of all the magical creatures, Draco Malfoy had to be a vampire.__ 7th year at Hogwarts._

**A/N: **_**A huge thank you to all of you reading and reviewing people. I promise next chapters will come soon! Hopefully, they'll be readable too. I said hopefully.**_

_**Thank you, Badger-chan. You're the best!**_

_**À sabrina (anon. rev.) : merci beaucoup pour ta gentille review, ça m'encourage vraiment à faire des efforts pour les updates ! J'espère que ce chapitre te plaira ! :)**_

**oOoOo**

Madam Pomfrey was a happy witch.

Madam Pomfrey was a Potter-&-Malfoy-free, happy witch.

At last, the two impossible students had left her infirmary and she was now free from their pervy-thoughts-inducing presence. She stopped her musings for a second, wondering about the two wizards' ability to make her utterly confused, so much so that she kept creating silly adjectives to try and qualify them. She did not know if Severus and Sirius had come to talk with their respective godsons, nor did she want to; she had more than done her duty by letting them know. As for the headmaster, it seemed that he had forgotten to come to the infirmary altogether. For a few seconds, she tried to guess the cause of this oversight.

_Either something to do with lemon drops or with that silly hamster of his, _she concluded, sighing. This would be another very long day.

**oOoOo**

"Oi, Ron! Hermione! Good thing you're—AAAAARGH!"

Ron and Hermione quickly detached from where they had been glued to the lips. The blushing witch climbed down from her boyfriend's lap which she had been happily straddling just a few seconds earlier. Both were wearing the same sheepish look.

"Merlin, how many times do I have to tell you to at least have the decency to wash each other's tonsils somewhere _discreet_?" Harry whined. "Now I'll have to live with the images for the rest of my life! I mean, really, how much more ostentatious can people get?"

As Harry kept rambling on and on, Hermione blinked a few times while Ron appeared to try very hard not to laugh out loud.

"Awww, look 'Mione, our dear Harry is getting all jealous on us. Well, at least, some of us _do_ something about our sexual frustra—mphrt!"

Harry had slapped his hand across Ron's mouth, effectively silencing him.

"Don't even _think_ about finishing that sentence," the small wizard growled.

Still looking baffled, poor Hermione could not help blurting out: "Wow, you even _sound_ like Malfoy, now. How did you manage to learn to whine so fast?"

"Guess he had to have a very _close_ study of the person himself, right?" Ron let out nonchalantly while dusting imaginary dirt from his shoulder.

"Harry, will you please stop trying to claw Ron's eyes out, you look like a rabid kitten," the wise witch said, clutching the back of the chibi elf's pants.

"Sooo, what brings you here? Need to talk to us?"

Harry suddenly stopped glaring and looked down at his feet, muttering something unintelligible.

"I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that," Ron said in a sweet voice, taking great pleasure in his best friend's discomfort. Whoever said revenge was a dish best served cold obviously did not know the joys of squirmy-Harry-watching.

"I said it's about Malfoy," Harry repeated slightly annoyed, still not looking up.

Ron was about to do a small victory dance, demented laugh included, when Hermione silenced him with a glare of her own.

"Come on, Harry, tell us what's going on," she said, leading their friend to the couch in front of the fire.

Fortunately, the Gryffindor common room was deserted by now – after a bit of convincing from Ron – so they would be able to talk, but Hermione still cast a Silencing spell around them. They distinctively heard the disappointed groans of Dean and Seamus coming from behind an armchair. Harry raised a brow; Ron rolled his eyes; Hermione smirked.

"Alright," Harry began "I—um, first, promise you won't laugh." He thought for a bit. "And won't kill me either."

At the identical blank looks he received from his friends, he added: "I'm serious, it's not easy to talk about this so just—promise first and refrain from strangling me afterwards. Please?" he added with big, bright puppy eyes he knew his friends could not resist. Both sighed but promised nonetheless.

"Ahem. There seemed to have been an accident with Malfoy. You guys know how he's a big, bad vampire and all?" Both nodded. "And you know that I'm a wood elf, right?" Twin nods again. "Um—well. There was this accident and now we're, err, kinda mates."

"..."

"Huh?"

"Oh no, please don't make me say that again," Harry whimpered.

Then Ron spoke, surprising everyone.

"Fine by me."

Hermione gaped at her boyfriend while the black-haired wizard remained in his hedgehog position, thinking his best friend was merely having trouble processing the data.

"What?" Ron asked, annoyed. "It's not like he had a choice. Harry, you did say it was an accident, right?"

"Well, yes. You're not going to kill me? I mean, don't get me wrong, I do intend to live to a ripe old age and all that rot, I don't _want_ you to kill me, mind you, but it's Malfoy we're talking about, you know? As in the guy who's made our life a living hell from the very first day?"

Ron actually _smirked_. "Ah but see, you didn't seem to mind all that much yourself last time I saw you at the infirmary."

Harry went a lovely shade of red. "Uh—That was, uh—"

Hermione was looking between them, still gaping like a big, frizzy goldfish.

Ron grinned. "Good. Now that we've talked, could we go grab lunch? I'm bloody starving."

Hermione shook her head, finally getting out of it. "Wow, wow, wow, wait a minute, there. What kind of accident? When? Where? And mates? As in _life_ mates? But he's a vampire! He's supposed to be able to choose a mate and so are you for that matter!" she exclaimed before calming down a bit. "Oh, and Ron?"

"Hm?"

She leaned forward and gave him the French kiss of the century.

"I'm glad you got past this silly rivalry thing with Malfoy. I'm so proud to have such a mature boyfriend!" she said excitedly. She turned to Harry, who paled drastically.

"No need to tell me you're proud of me too! It's alright! I know you are!" he claimed while edging away from the French-kissing demon.

Ron tut-tutted. "Look at what you've done, 'Mione. I knew he wasn't really into girls before, that was bound to scare the hell out of him and choose even Malfoy over any kind of girl."

"I told you, I didn't choose him!" Harry said defensively.

"Sure thing. Sometimes, accidents happen where there's actual ground for it." The redhead winked.

Harry gaped at him. Since when was Ron _perceptive_? Then he realized the full meaning of his words and blushed again. "What—But—We're not—I'd never—AAARGH! STOP MAKING ME STUTTER!" he yelled at his cackling friends.

They talked a bit more about the details of this new turn of events before Hermione stopped to point out: "But Harry, now that you're mates, you won't be able to be apart for too long, you know that? You will definitely want to be with him for at least a few hours a day—or night for that matter," she added slyly while Ron turned a nice shade of green.

Harry opened and closed his mouth a few times, eyes going wide. "But I don't even like him!"

A very heavy silence met his words.

"—alright. Well. Maybe I like him a little. Just a tiny little bit! I mean—he stood up for me, didn't he? And he's not that bad. And his eyes are very pretty when he laughs. And—oh no. I do like him. Oh hell." The poor elf flopped down on the sofa and hid his face behind a cushion.

"C'mon, Harry! You're mates, so even if it started as some sort of accident, you like him now! It's not that bad—" Hermione tried.

"Not that bad? Are you kidding? I'm never going to hear the end of it! He'll make fun of me until the end of times, unless—unless he doesn't know! It's just a silly crush, anyway! I've been hanging around him far too much lately. That's it. Promise me you'll never tell him a word—"

"But Harry—"

"I said not a word!" he snapped and stood up, bringing their discussion to an end.

Both Ron and Hermione sighed but said nothing. They went out of the Portrait and started walking to the Great Hall, followed by a smallish Gryffindor muttering darkly to himself and kicking imaginary pebbles.

They had not been walking for three minutes when Hermione gave Ron a nudge, nodding at the approaching figure. Ron looked up and smirked. He took her by the hand and they stopped before quickly taking a turn through another corridor. Too absorbed in his own musings and strategic plans to escape his supposedly mate, Harry never noticed their leaving and when he did, it was already too late. An arm caught him around the waist.

"EEEEEK!"

"This never gets old," an amused voice said behind him.

"Argh! Don't do that to me! You should be glad my magic likes you and doesn't go berserk!" the Gryffindor clapped a hand on his mouth, cursing his words. Why did he always have to go and dig his own grave?

Draco released Harry to look down at him, frowning. "What do you mean, berserk?"

Incredibly relieved that the blonde had seemingly overlooked the first part of the sentence – though he was a bit embarrassed about this part _as well – _Harry explained: "Well—let's say that after Seamus tried to surprise me like you did, he looked more like a roasted chicken than a wizard," Harry said, scratching the back of his head. He waited for the teasing to come, but it never did. He looked up again to see that Draco was looking at him funnily before he turned his back to him.

The blonde's shoulders were shaking slightly.

"Draco—are you alright?" Harry asked in a worried voice. After a few seconds, he grew suspicious. "Are you laughing? Look at me!"

He spun his mate around, just in time to see him wipe a tear of mirth. "If you're going to make fun of me, then face me!" Harry said lowering his head to hide that he was hurt at that thought.

Draco stopped laughing at once and took Harry's chin in his hand, looking directly into his eyes. "Who said I was laughing at you?" he asked very seriously. "I think it was brilliant! It'll teach that stupid Irish flirt to mess with my mate!" he declared, eyes shining with pride.

Harry had been thinking he had never seen him more beautiful than at that moment, but then he realized he was supposed to react.

"—huh?"

"Mine!" the blonde growled fiercely, crushing him in a bear hug.

Harry distractedly noticed that it had been a long time since the last Hugging-Monster attack and intended to say so:

"—huh?" was all that came out instead.

"Maybe Severus was right. You're not being awfully articulate, you know."

"WHAT? I don't care what that overgrown bat thinks, I'm very articulate. That is, uh—when you're not looking at me like that. Um—Draco?"

The Vampire's eyes started to shine like molten silver. "It's the second time you've called me by my name today," he said in a singsong voice. "Careful, Potter, one might think that you like me. Maybe even lo—"

"Shhhhhh!" Harry exclaimed, slapping his hand on the other's mouth and looking around frantically. "Don't say such things when we're in the middle of the bloody corridor! Never heard of the walls having ears?" he hissed.

Draco raised a brow and Harry realized his hand was still on the Slytherin's mouth. He quickly dropped it, berating himself for enjoying any kind of contact with the handsome blonde. Said blonde looked at the elf, his eyes still burning. "You didn't deny it."

"Huh? I mean, err, sorry, what?" Harry said, a bit lost.

"You didn't say that you didn't like me," Draco said, slowly leaning into Harry's personal space.

"Huh? What do you—huh? HEY! I didn't say that either and, um—" he faltered when he saw the other lean dangerously near. "W-we should go get lunch—breakfast—whatever meal we're supposed to have now, anyway!" he bravely fled the promiscuous blonde in favor of retreating to the Great Hall. He finally flopped down at the Gryffindor table.

Ron and Hermione looked at him briefly and rolled their eyes. Seamus and Dean were throwing suspicious looks at him. Luckily, nobody else seemed to notice his flustered state. He was already congratulating himself for his clever strategic move, when he felt someone stop right behind him.

_No. He would not have dared come to the Gryffindor table, right? RIGHT? _

Harry was not so sure anymore, so he slowly turned to face the enemy and was very surprised to see Blaise Zabini standing there. At first, he felt relieved. Then he got this horrible, horrible doubt. He tried not to show his discomfort.

"Zabini," he nodded in greetings, "what do you want?"

The Italian boy looked utterly bored and did not even look at Harry while addressing him.

"Draco blackmailed me into bringing you to him because he didn't want to come here himself. Said something about it not being proper according to etiquette or something. So, come with me, I don't have all day."

Harry blinked. Draco wanted to be with him? Well. That was nice.

_No! That is SO NOT nice! Who does that prat think he is, acting all high and mighty? It was supposed to be the only place where he couldn't get to me! Sending someone over to bring him. How very—Slytherin. _

—_meh,_ Harry thought, wanting to slap his own face.

Only then did he notice that while he had been off to his own little world, Blaise had taken the matter into his own hands, quite literally at that. He had grasped Harry by the back of his collar and was currently dragging the chibi elf to the Slytherin table.

Harry tried to escape but Blaise had a firm grip. He threw a pleading look at his two best friends; Ron grinned at him while Hermione waved him farewell. Very supportive indeed. Their journey finally ended as Harry was carelessly dropped on the bench in front of a very smug-looking vampire.

"You!" the Gryffindor said, pointing an accusing finger at the blonde, and trying hard to think of something to say in this situation.

"That—wasn't fair!"

_And the award of the silliest comeback goes toooo—_

Harry pouted, which made the other's smile grow bigger. "Though I must say, it was efficiently conducted," the elf added as an afterthought. Draco was still looking at him, smiling. Harry threw up his arms in defeat.

"Alright, don't look at me like that! You won! But I'm warning you, it won't be as easy next time!" he exclaimed. Again, he realized quite belatedly what was going on around him. The entire Hall was silent, ready for another episode of their favorite soap-opera. The Slytherins especially were looking at him as if he were about to grow feathers. He glared at them.

"What are you looking at? Back to your feeding trough, you nosey pigs!" he spat.

"I'm glad to see that you're finally taking after my exemplary grace and elegance," Draco smirked.

Harry had the decency to blush. "It's your own damn fault that I have to bear with that bunch of spongy-brained jellyfish," he muttered.

The clear sound of Draco's laugh was heard in the astounded silence.

"Stop making me laugh so much or they'll think I'm polyjuiced!" Draco exclaimed when he saw the suspicious looks his housemates were now throwing in his direction. "Merlin, I wish I had known you sooner, it'd have been so much more interesting around here!" he chuckled.

Harry maturely stuck out his tongue and went back to pouting, mentally telling the little voice in his head – _bloody hell! You again? – _that agreed with the blonde to just shut _up_.

**oOoOo**

"Very good job, everyone! We're the best! Our team will definitely get the House cup this year! Mwahahahaaa!"

"..."

"Erm, Harry?" Dean asked hesitantly.

"Yes?" the green-eyed wizard turned to face the Beater in a graceful twirl of his Quidditch robes.

"Um—we were just wondering with the rest of the team. It's just—even though you said you're not particularly interested in winning, you seem so awfully cheerful today, and since I know something's going on between you and Malf—"

"Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha," Harry laughed in a fairly decent imitation of a badly scratched vinyl record. "That was a very funny joke, right guys? Right, _Dean_?" When the elf turned to look straight at him with glowing _silver_ eyes, the poor wizard gulped and took a couple of steps back. All the other members were gaping at the two of them, trying hard to understand what the hell was going on.

"Err. Yes, it was a just a joke. Haha. Everyone knows there's _nothing_ going on between you and Malf—"

"RIGHT, that's settled then," Harry strategically interrupted, the creepy light not quite leaving his eyes. Black smoke was starting to gather around the very pissed Quidditch captain.

"Haha, of course there's _absolutely _nothing going on between you and Malf—"

"EXACTLY, Dean, nothing happened. Now that this is established, everyone take a good shower and go to sleep early. Wouldn't want my team to crash into the ground, right?"

The dark cloud surrounding the twitching elf was starting to swirl dangerously.

"You know me, Harry, I'm such a joker, why would you even have anything to do with Malf—"

"SHOWER! NOW!"

Dean blanched and saluted – "Sir, yes, Sir!" – before dashing off, soon followed by a sweat-dropping team.

Harry sighed. This was going to be more difficult than ever; if Dean already had doubts, it meant that Seamus knew as well. And if Seamus knew as well, very, _very_ soon, the whole school would know.

A hand suddenly landed on his shoulder. Harry sprang like a Boston terrier and 'eeped'. Not much like a Boston terrier, mind you.

"GODAMMIT! STOP SCARING THE LIFE OUT OF ME!"

"—um, Harry? You alright?" Ginny said, clutching at her chest where her heart had nearly jumped out of her rib cage.

"Oh, sorry Ginny, I thought it was, uh, someone else," he finished lamely.

"I can see that," the redhead smirked slightly before growing serious again. "You know, everybody in the team is worried and Hermione is pacing back and forth so hard that she's going to fall right through the ceiling one of these days. It's about _him_ again, right? And don't try to lie to me, you know exactly who we're talking about here. You're not being terribly discreet. So what is it?"

Harry's shoulders slumped, all trace of his previous wrath gone. "I know I'm usually not that enthusiastic about Quidditch – don't raise your brow like that – but it's the only place where I know he won't scare the wits out of me, since he's not allowed on the grounds while we train. And I can't stop worrying about, you know – the fact that I _care_. And it's like I won't be able to prevent him from knowing, and I can't have that happen."

"But Harry, why—"

"I said I can't. I may be _slightly _smaller than average, but bad temper is not proportionate to size, right?"

"Harry, you really have to work on these creepy silver eyes of yours. People will start to notice that they turn like this whenever you get angry, and it won't be long before they make the connection. Do you even realize how many people have silver eyes at this school? Not many, I tell you."

Harry paled to the point that he would have looked pretty next to Headless Nick. He nodded to Ginny before going to the boys' locker room. Ron was the only one left there and was currently trying to put on his left sock, bouncing around the room like some crazy, one-legged flamingo.

"I'm never going to survive this year," the smaller wizard sighed.

Ron rolled his eyes. "You taking a course in melodrama or what? You've got it worse than Malf—AAAAAAAAUGH!"

**oOoOo**

Three whole days were needed to find a very battered Ron, who looked like he had been locked up in a room with some psycho hairdresser. For two more days he remained the star attraction of Hogwarts, known as "The-Boy-Who-Could-Not-Get-His-Nails-To-Change-Bac k-From-Their-Lovely-Shade-Of-Purple".


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling; I own the ridiculous plot.

**Warning:** SLASH, LANGUAGE, OOC-NESS. This story disregards OotP, HBP and DH, which basically translates into: "lalala I can't hear you, all the characters I like are still alive."

**Pairings:** DM/HP, RW/HG, SS/SB, RL/NT

**Summary: **_He could have been anything. A Goblin. An Orc. A Mountain Troll. Hell, he could have been the King of Dwarves, for all Harry cared. But NO, of all the magical creatures, Draco Malfoy had to be a vampire.__ 7th year at Hogwarts._

**A/N:** _Thank you Badger-chan! Kon kon!_

_A big thank you to the people who reviewed/favorited/read._ _Special thanks to _**Emerald Eyes of Flame, Timorth, A.B., karenelaine **_and _**music-is-luv **_for their nice reviews._

_This chapter is dedicated to _**NaRuKo77** _and all the squeaking, squealing, screaming SasuNaru-fangirls out there. Giggling and drooling is good too._

**oOoOo**

"This is ridiculous. Have you seen the way he's acting these days? If you don't do anything, you'll have a demented elf for a mate. Why don't you tell him, anyway?"

"What, that you're the spy?"

"NO! Of course not that, you moron! And stop smirking! I don't know, tell him that he's the most beautiful chibi elf on earth and that you want to keep him to yourself until the end of times! Is it that hard to say?"

"Well apparently not for you, if your own happy little couple is anything to go by. Aww, don't blush like that, there's nothing to be ashamed of, right?"

"Malfoy, you are the worst kind of bastard to have ever set foot on this planet."

"Why, thank you, I've been told so a few times."

"Bloody Slytherins—"

"Stop muttering stupid things and go back to your post. Everything will be done and said in time. See you," the blonde turned to go back to his common room "And don't make faces behind my back, it's rude."

A groan of frustration echoed in the dark corridor, accompanied by the sound of retreating footsteps.

**oOoOo**

_The same night, third floor._

"Come on, Seamus, we're almost there," a very tired Harry Potter said.

"YAAAY! Ev'r'one sing wid mey '_Save a broom, ride a wizard!_' Woohoo! C'mon, Harry, mate, sh-shing wid mee!"

_That had been a very, very bad idea._

What Harry had thought to be a brilliant solution to his problem had turned into a nightmare. He had spent a whole day thinking of a way to prevent Draco from knowing that he cared about him. Ron and Hermione had told him he was being silly, but he felt he had to carry out his plan. He was much too afraid of what Draco would say if he knew. The bond-thing was just an accident and was certainly not supposed to become genuine in any way.

That was why Harry had started thinking long and hard of what he needed to do in order to stop Dean and Seamus from telling everyone what they knew. Dean, he thought, would be silent now, what with their small conversation at the Quidditch pitch. But Seamus, yes, Seamus had to keep quiet. Or even better, he had to forget.

What was the best way for the Irishman to forget? Harry had had qualms about using magic, so he had turned to his second option.

_A few hours earlier, the same night_.

Harry had successfully raided the secret supply of alcohol left by the Weasley twins' and invited Seamus in the Room of Requirements to have a 'small celebration'. At the time, Harry had thought that the great thing about Seamus was that he did not need any kind of reason to celebrate, which had made things that much easier.

At some point, Seamus started singing all kinds of silly songs, comfortably sprawled on the soft cushions provided by the Room of Requirements. Harry congratulated himself on a job well done and checked his watch; 3:17 am. It was time to go back to Gryffindor Tower.

Since he had only pretended to drink with his friend, Harry's head was completely clear. He stood up and started to try and get Seamus to his feet, which turned out to be much more difficult than what he previously thought. He suddenly remembered that he was a wizard, for Merlin's sake, and patted his pockets, looking for his wand. And that's exactly when he realized how tough things were about to become.

No wand. He had forgotten his bloody wand. Goodbye, stunning spell and _Mobilicorpus_, goodbye _Lumos _and goodbye Marauders' Map. He couldn't do anything without his wand! Why did he have to go and forget it when he most needed it! He searched Seamus' pockets only to find that his friend had also left his wand in the dorms. The drunk young man giggled loudly before starting yet another song:

"_Toora loora loora la, toora loora loora la  
Sing toora loora loora la, give the child a jar of porter!_"

Harry sighed heavily before helping Seamus to his feet. Still singing, the happy Irishman started clinging awkwardly to his human walking frame, making both of them sway dangerously towards the wall. After five long minutes of struggle, they managed to get out of the Room of Requirements. They hobbled along the dark corridors, Seamus tripping and giggling, Harry tripping along and cursing.

They were about to take a laborious turn to the left, towards the staircase, when something caught Harry's eyes. Seamus was far too busy trying to put one step in front of the other to notice anything. The green-eyed boy's attention was drawn to a precise spot as the moon appeared from behind the heavy clouds, briefly casting its bluish light upon two figures standing in a tight embrace.

Harry blinked and almost gasped out loud upon recognizing the couple. Without thinking any further, he caught Seamus' arm and dragged him in another direction. It was too bad that they had to take the longer way, but Harry's instincts clearly told him not to disturb such a peaceful scene. And if he could prevent Seamus from babbling about yet _another_ delicate matter, so much the better.

After quickly – as quick as was possible with his drunk burden – going down a few stairs and turning into a corridor, Harry finally allowed himself to slow down and think, still dragging along a happily tipsy Seamus.

_What the hell was that? Ginny and Blaise Zabini? Well, that's—unexpected. But not all that surprising, really._

Harry shook himself out of it and caught back Seamus' arm. They resumed their zigzagging through the silent corridors. Well, almost silent, anyway.

"_I've been a wild rover for many's the year  
and I've spent all me money on whiskey and beer—"_

"Shhhhh, Seamus please, not so loud! We're gonna get caught by—"

"Well well well, if it isn't Mr Potter wandering at night in the corridor like he's up to something, _as usual,_" Severus Snape drawled in a voice that clearly showed how much he was enjoying this.

"Um—it's not what it looks like—" Harry stuttered. Realizing that his companion had not been noticed, he discreetly kicked Seamus behind an armor so that he, at least, would be spared punishment. The Gryffindor opened his mouth to further explain himself, but then he faltered. It was exactly what it looked like. Damn. How would he get out of that one? He wondered if he should try praying some deity for a miracle to happen right now, at that very minute. One could always try, right? Besides—

"Excuse me, Professor, I was taking him back to Gryffindor Tower after his detention," a deep voice said calmly.

_Please, whatever God I offended, I'm truly, deeply sorry so would you please bring me another kind of miracle? Like, a positive one for instance, eh? What do you think? I swear I won't try to get people drunk anymore—_

"Mr Malfoy, may I inquire as to the reason of Mr Potter's presence at 3:32 AM in the corridors? Who did he have detention with?"

"Why, with Professor Black, of course," the blonde said, examining his nails.

A triumphant smirk made its way on the Potions Master's face. "Do not lie to me. Black would never give detention to his precious godson."

"Ah, but why don't you go and check with Professor Black? I'm sure he would be positively delighted to—_invite you in_ at 3 o'clock in the morning," the vampire said sweetly.

Poor Severus choked at the not so implicit innuendo and blushed bright red, though he told himself fifty times over it was because he was angry and not because of—something else. Like mental images. Nope. Not at all.

"Fine, a good night to you, then," the professor said in a clipped voice before leaving with a somewhat less dramatic swirl of his robes. Once his footsteps had faded away, Draco turned to his mate, who was still hiding his face behind his hands and praying very hard for a way to get out of here.

"It's alright now, he's gone," Draco said, amused by his mate's antics.

"I know, but _you_ are still here," Harry said in a muffled voice.

"Oh, that's very nice of you after I just saved your sorry ass!" the blonde said, annoyed.

"What do you want me to do? Jump into your arms and tell you that I shall be eternally grateful?" the Gryffindor said sarcastically.

"For instance, yes," Draco retorted casually.

It was Harry's turn to choke. "I can't believe you! You just made it ten times worse! Snape will definitely go and ask Sirius and—"

"Calm down, you look like a panic-stricken kitten."

"Stop comparing me with a bloody kitten! First Hermione and now you! Argh! How the hell can I calm down now? I'm so dead! Snape's going to kill me, and then he's gonna tell Sirius, and then Sirius is going to kill me and—"

"I said it's alright. Severus is never going to go and ask Black, now. Trust me. He's never going to dare to," the blonde smirked satisfactorily.

Harry carefully peeked from behind his right hand. "How do you know?"

"I'll explain it to you later, if you want."

"—alright."

"..."

"What?"

"I'm waiting for my reward."

A grumble was heard.

"Sorry?"

"I said thank you for saving me. There. Now if you'll excuse me—"

"Not so fast. You don't honestly think that I'm going to let you go with a mere thank you, do you?"

"Um—yes?"

"..."

"Fine, what do you want?"

Harry knew he had said the wrong thing. He didn't like that small glint in the Slytherin's eyes. He didn't like it at all. While they were talking, the vampire had progressively backed him up against the wall. Leaning against it with his arms on both sides of the elf, Draco prevented the Gryffindor from bolting away. Harry cursed himself for not noticing sooner. Wasn't it the second time he was tricked like this? He tried to think; what was one supposed to do when their secret crush had them backed up against a wall?

...

_No, not __**that**__, thank you very much._ _Is there something that can help any __**less**__ than that, anyway?_

Harry was getting desperate. True, he had done this before, but it did not mean he was any less nervous about it. Draco's eyes were turning this soft yet burning shade of silver, and Harry could not help but be hypnotized by them. The blonde's face was now inches away from Harry's, his eyes never leaving the inviting lips of his mate. The smaller wizard could not prevent the shudder that went through his whole body and instinctively closed his eyes.

He could feel the Vampire's warm breath on his face.

The soft brush of fingers on his cheek.

The musky scent of Draco's cologne.

His mind went blank. Their mouths were about to meet when a distinct '_awwww_' was heard on their left. Both wizards slowly turned to see a very drunk Seamus leaning heavily on an armor and staring at them with a silly smile.

"Fufufu, don't mind me," he giggled, batting his lashes.

A heavy silence ensued.

Harry went bright red as soon as he realized what exactly he had been about to do. He turned to explain Seamus' presence to Draco and sprang into action barely in time: the vampire looked ready to kill, his eyes burning a glowing green. He had been about to strangle the poor Irishman or do something even more drastic when Harry caught him. The elf held him back long enough for the pissed creature to calm down.

"It's alright, Draco, he's with me—"

"WHAT?"

"NO! Not like this! Calm down! I was just taking him back to the dorms since he's too drunk to walk on his own—"

It was not an outright lie. It was just a subtle omission of the truth. Draco seemed to relax a bit before getting suspicious again. "That perverted drunkard didn't try to do anything to you, right?" he asked, pointing a finger at Seamus who seemed to have fallen asleep at some point of the conversation; he was now snoring in a messy pile on the ground, hugging the armor like a pillow and drooling abundantly.

"..."

"I had to ask, right?"

"I'm not really sure in this case," Harry grimaced.

"But why didn't you use _Mobilicorpus_?" Draco asked frowning.

Somehow, Harry knew that the Slytherin would not like what he was about to say. There was also the fact that he felt ashamed to tell him. Why didn't he want to see the disappointment on Draco's face? Oh, yes. Because he had this tiny little crush thingy going on. Right.

"Ikindaforgotmywand," he told the ground.

He didn't feel nor hear the blonde until it was too late.

"—eh? Why did you, um, kiss me?" Harry blinked, blushing furiously.

"That was your punishment for being forgetful," Draco explained before pecking him lightly on the nose. "Now go back to your dorms before I decide that you need to be more thoroughly punished," he added with a smirk.

The vampire watched his mate as he hurriedly grabbed the sleeping Gryffindor's collar and bolted around the corner in less time that was needed to say "bed".

He chuckled, thinking it would be quite pleasant to try and see if he could get Harry to blush any redder than that.

**oOoOo**

The morning after that eventful night, Harry went to class, but fled the disapproving looks of his two best friends. Somehow, they had understood what his intentions with Seamus had been. He was not particularly proud of his actions, but as the saying goes, desperate times called for desperate measures and all that jazz. Besides, there was no way he would let people know about anything going on between him and Draco. He had spent the rest of the previous night thinking about the whole mess.

Firstly, he liked Draco Malfoy. Meh. Secondly, he realized that he didn't fear Draco's reaction about his feelings as much as before, though he wasn't really sure why; it was more like he was scared of what would happen if everybody knew that Harry Potter was Draco Mafoy's mate. He was so dead. Thirdly, what would Narcissa Malfoy say? And what about Sirius? Merlin, if people didn't kill him beforehand, now he was sure to get chewed to death by Padfoot. Since he couldn't do anything about people or Mrs. Malfoy, he decided to go to his godfather and try to announce things diplomatically. Well, as diplomatically as possible, anyway.

And that is why Harry was now standing in front of his beloved godfather's door that afternoon.

Of course, he had been standing there for a while already. He kept pacing back and forth, hesitating and biting his nails.

_I'm calm. Everything is going to be alright. Sirius is an adult and a responsible, rational person._

_..._

_Alright, scratch that. He's an overgrown three-year old who keeps making fun of people and loves wreaking havoc in the castle. Think, Harry, think. Sirius was the one to encourage the Marauders to become Animagi for Moony's sake, which proves that he is a tolerant person, right?_—_Merlin, I can't do this! What if he rejects me? Maybe he won't want to have anything to do with me once he knows. Maybe he didn't even want to be my godfather in the first place. After all, I'm the reason why he got sent to Azkaban. What if he thinks I'm a freak? What if he—_"

His frantic thoughts were interrupted when he heard someone clear their throat behind him. He quickly turned to see none other than his mate, patiently waiting for him to acknowledge his presence.

"Draco—"

The Vampire frowned when he felt that the chibi elf's distress had grown even stronger since he had first felt it back in the Dungeons.

"Harry, what's wrong?" he asked in a worried voice he barely recognized as his.

The Gryffindor did not think. He merely obeyed his instincts and threw himself in the other's arms and clung to his shirt as if his life depended on it. The vampire immediately embraced him and gently sank them to the ground, rocking back and forth, softly rubbing his mate's back.

"Shhh, it's alright, I'm here. Shhh."

Harry shook silently, his quiet sobbing slowly receding. At this moment, a very unlucky Third-Year Ravenclaw happened to turn around the corner and froze upon looking at the scene. Sensing him, Draco abruptly turned to glare at the offending presence.

"CAN'T YOU SEE YOU'RE INTERRUPTING? GET LOST!"

The poor student went very pale and muttered a faint apology before dashing off. Draco felt more than he heard Harry chuckle against his chest.

"What?" he asked in a fake annoyed tone.

"That must have been the dismissal of the century," Harry's muffled voice said.

"Hn. Stupid Ravenclaws. To think these morons are supposed to be the smartest bunch of Hogwarts. That's really not flattering for the rest of us, I'm telling you."

Harry chuckled again and sat back up, wiping his eyes. He thought about all he could say at that moment. That he was sorry; that he felt pitiful and silly; that he did not want to bother Draco and that really, he was not usually like that; that he was ashamed that Draco had seen him crying. But when he looked into gentle silver, he knew he would not say any of this.

"Thank you," he said instead with a soft smile.

Without any prompting, he leant forward, too absorbed in what he was doing to hear the soft 'click' of a door being open.

**oOoOo**

Draco was stunned. His mate was about to kiss him of his own volition.

The soft fragrance that was distinctively Harry surrounded him. He closed his eyes in order to better appreciate the elf's soothing presence. He distractedly heard the sound coming from his left, but could not bring himself to care.

His mate was about to kiss him.

**oOoOo**

The inhuman shriek made both of them jump into the air.

"AAAAARGH! BURNS US, IT BURNS US!" Sirius Black screamed like a madman from where he stood in his doorway. Then he went running through the Dungeons, yelling all the way down there:

"SEEEEVIIIIE! MY CUTE LITTLE GODSON GOT PERVERTED BY YOURS! I DEMAND SOME SORT OF REPARATION HERE!"

Harry was left gaping. A vein had popped out on Draco's temple.

"Harry," the voice was deceptively calm "will you allow me to kill my dear cousin? I'll be back in a minute."

Harry faintly nodded and blinked a few times as he sank back to the ground.

So much for keeping it a secret from the entire school.

**oOoOo**

**Other disclaimers: **The songs by the Dubliners (_Jar of Porter_ and _Wild Rover_), _Who framed Roger Rabbit_ and _LOTR_ do not belong to me. Not making any profit here.


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling; I own the ridiculous plot.

**Warning:** SLASH, LANGUAGE, OOC-NESS. This story disregards OotP, HBP and DH, which basically translates into: "lalala I can't hear you, all the characters I like are still alive."

**Pairings:** DM/HP, RW/HG, SS/SB, RL/NT

**Summary: **_He could have been anything. A Goblin. An Orc. A Mountain Troll. Hell, he could have been the King of Dwarves, for all Harry cared. But NO, of all the magical creatures, Draco Malfoy had to be a vampire.__ 7th year at Hogwarts._

**A/N:** _Hullo there. I have to say, I can't believe I got over 400 reviews for this._

_**THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE AND NICE REVIEWS!**_

_And __**thank you, Ash of Mine**__. Though I really think you should go easy on the chocolate while I'm in the US. __**I **__should be the one getting fat, stuffing my face with pancakes and stuff. Hm. Pancakes. Yum._

_I dedicate this chapter to __**Fragonknight01**__. That's 4500 words of fluff for ya. And please don't EVER say the words 'poodle' and 'dye' in the same sentence again. It gives me the creeps._

**oOoOo**

Everything had started when Headmaster Dumbledore decided to teach a bunch of hairy hamsters how to do entrechats, patiently explaining to them how _crucial_ it was to put on green and purple striped socks, otherwise everything would be ruined. He added something about the balance not being right and the dark side of the Force being overwhelming.

Then it had gotten even weirder – if possible – when Narcissa Malfoy had barged into the Seventh Year Boys' dorms.

"Where is he, WHERE is my son's mate?"

Thinking that his last hour had come, Harry gulped and waved faintly at the scary witch. While he was distractedly wondering if the wizarding world had been considering a way to make mentally-written wills, the frightening lady Malfoy kept striding in his direction. She swooped down on him and—crushed him in a bear hug.

"I am SO happy! My son has finally found a mate! So wonderful! Let me take a look at you**—**Circe, you really are the cutest boy I have ever seen! But I am sure I do not need to tell Draco to keep you all to himself, right?"

Harry blinked. Blushed. Then, for some reason, he felt the weird urge to be honest with her.

"Um. E-Excuse me, Mrs. Malfoy, I love your son very much, but**—**doesn't it bother you that I'm, well, Harry Potter?" he finished blushing furiously.

Lady Malfoy looked truly astonished. "Why should I be bothered by this? My son loves you for what you are, even if he would never say so aloud, and I could not be happier with such a wonderful son-in-law!"

Then she seemed to realize something.

"Oh, you mean because of my ex-husband's _allegiances_?" she said contemptuously. "Ask Draco, he will tell you the whole story. Why, I have not had so much fun in twenty years!" She paused for a bit, frowning. "Oh dear, I was not married to that moronic shoe-licker back then, explain a few things, it does. But I had Draco, my wonderful baby! To think he is all grown up now. Oh my—"

She sniffled before exclaiming again, "Merlin! So late and I still have to see Siri. Well, Harry, it has been a pleasure meeting you, we shall talk some more once the two of you are married, right?"

Harry's eyes became the size of giant saucers, which Mrs malfoy did not notice. She was far too busy cooing.

"I am so happy I could cry! Oh, excuse me, gentleman, I am Draco's mother, and you are?"

"Uh—I'm Ronald Weasley," the tall redhead said awkwardly.

"You are? That's wonderful! You will have to tell Molly to come by one of these days! Oh, but what am I thinking, I shall see her when you marry young Miss Granger, right? And then you will definitely be there at my son's wedding, after all, you _are_ his mate's best friend. So wonderful, so wonderful! Well, I have to go, now. I shall see you all soon! Goodbye, Mr. Weasley," she turned to Harry "goodbye, my future son-in-law!" She giggled one last time and waltzed out of the room.

Harry blinked. "What was that?"

Ron merely shrugged. "Your crazy future inlaw, I guess."

When Harry thought it could not get any weirder than this, he turned to say something to Ron but instead, he saw something he could only describe as utterly surreal.

His very own godfather was kissing the daylights out of none other than Severus Snape.

Harry ducked for cover, waiting for the string of curses and spells to come. But it never did. The two happily kissed away, not caring the least in the world about what might possibly happen around them.

"Now I know I'm bloody dreaming," the poor elf muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Come on, Harry, wake UP!" he finally shouted at his conscious self.

The old trick worked and Harry opened his eyes to the red canopy of his bed in Gryffindor Tower. For a few minutes, his mind remained blank. Then—

_What the HELL?_

He checked his watch; 2:27 AM.

Lately, he had been careful not to take naps and made sure he was active enough during the day in order to be able to have a good night's sleep. Yet it seemed it had been all for nothing; here he was, tossing and turning in his bed, the pictures of his dream too vivid in his mind for him to go back to sleep. Yet, he did not want to go for a stroll because he knew that if he did, he would automatically go to the Dungeons. Stupid instincts. Stupid elves.

He used to wonder why he would always meet Draco at night; he had come to the conclusion that not only was the vampire innocent – or almost so if one did not count the role he played in the bond thing – but it was the elf in Harry that led him to his mate, in order to—what was it the book said, already? Ah, yes, "to watch over his mate and protect them from the dangerous creatures of the night."

Upon reading this, Harry had not known whether to laugh his head off or sit down and cry. It seemed that Mother Nature and those studying her had forgotten the unlikely combination of an elf and a vampire. Was he supposed to protect his mate from himself? That was utterly ridiculous. To make it short, Harry had discovered that the bond was a mere extension of his natural instincts as a wood elf. Wonderful.

_Aaaargh! This is so infuriating—_

Air, he needed some fresh air. But how was he supposed not to be drawn to the Dungeons once he was out of his dorms?

He suddenly remembered the whole episode with Mrs Norris; he quickly threw on some clothes, grabbed his broom, the Marauders' Map, his wand – he remembered what kind of 'punishment' Draco had in store for him should he ever forget his wand again – and he flew out of the window. He plunged into the darkness, intoxicated with speed, letting the wind make a bigger mess of his hair than it already was. The sky was clouded by a few bluish, frothy clouds. From time to time, the moon would appear from behind them, pouring its soothing, silvery light onto Hogwarts' grounds.

Harry zoomed up and down on his way to the Quidditch pitch, all the while congratulating himself on not feeling the urge to go back to the Dungeons. As he kept flying nearer, he suddenly frowned. Actually, he did not feel the need to go to the Dungeons at all. Something was wrong, but what? And then it struck him. He actually felt _awfully happy_ to be heading towards the pitch. It was the feeling that had kept itching since he had woken up—

_Oh no. That's bloody impossible. How would he even know_—_?_

Resigning himself to his fate, he landed next to the pitch. He was very proud of himself when he did not jump into the air upon hearing the voice.

"Hello, Harry. What brings you here on this fine evening?" Draco asked, smirk in place.

"You prat! You know it very well!" the smallish elf retorted, already annoyed. To his surprise – and secret delight – Draco laughed. "I love how predictable you are."

Harry was about to come back with a nasty retort when Draco spoke again, looking lost in his thoughts.

"Don't you think it's really nice to know that someone will always watch over you?"

Harry blinked. And the blonde suddenly seemed to realize what he had just said. A light pink colored his pale cheeks as he tried to justify his weird slip up. "I mean, uh, it's not always a weakness to be predictable, right? I mean—that is—"

Harry, who had never seen Draco in such a flustered state before – "Malfoys do _not_ blush, stutter or anything of the sort!" – did not quite know how to react. Yet, it did not even cross his mind to laugh at his mate's comment; he was merely stunned to hear his own thoughts uttered by the vampire.

"I guess not," he said, happy despite himself, which Draco must have noticed if the tiny smile on his face was anything to go by. They remained silent, looking at each other. Then, they both snapped out of it and looked away, feeling quite stupid. Harry berated himself for being so careless and so—so—yucky. He felt like he was coated with sugar or something. By the look of things, Draco felt the same. Harry distractedly noticed that even with the "I've-swallowed-lemon-whole" face, Draco looked handsome. It suddenly seemed to Harry that he was far gone. Very far. Yet he could not deny that not only did he feel at ease with the vampire, he also trusted him, just like he trusted his best friends. He mentally groaned.

_This crush of mine is going to be the death of me. The damn instincts are not making this any easier! BLOODY ELVES!_

Harry heard a low chuckle and remembered to switch back to the situation at hand. He threw a questioning look at Draco.

"Well, you did seem to have an interesting conversation with yourself, but if you don't mind I would very much like to join."

"It's the elves! Bloody buggers! And it's your own fault too!" Harry exploded while Draco raised a brow, "I _try_ to keep busy with other things, but I just can't, because I can't help thinking about you and even in my _dreams_ I—uh, that is—" it was Harry's turn to falter, horrified by his own words.

Draco's soft laugh echoed again in the dark.

"See, that's why it's so damn infuriating! It's because you're a big badass vampire who keeps laughing at me and it's just—EEEEK! What d'you think you're doing? Leggo!"

"No."

Harry stopped struggling, baffled. "No? How do you mean, no?"

"I mean no as in 'no, I'm not laughing at you', though I _am_ a big badass vampire, and also as in 'no, I'm not letting you go anytime soon'," Draco said firmly while tightening his grip around his mate.

"Hey! Are you daft? People will see us!" Harry panicked.

"At this time of the night? Even so, people will find out anyway and if I were the only one to have a say in this matter, everybody would already know that they are so _not_ approaching my mate."

Harry knew he was gaping like a goldfish at this point. He mentally kicked the smug voice he now recognized as his Elven side, which was happily pointing out to him that an elf is _not_ supposed to look like a goldfish, even a graceful one. His mind was desperately trying to detect any possible flaw, anything that would go horribly wrong in this, in order to protect the happiness that threatened to bubble out of him. He did not want to get hurt later when he realized it had all been a dream. He succeeded very well.

"What about your mother? She'll skin me alive me if she so much as hears a rumor about us!" he blanched at the mere thought. The blonde looked at him funnily.

"Are you kidding? I think that with you as a mate I couldn't make her happier even if I tried to."

"But you're not sure—"

"Trust me, I know my mother. You'll get to know her soon enough," Draco said with a grimace.

"..."

"Why are you grinning like that?" the vampire frowned.

"Awww. Big bad vampy is scared of his mommy! Mwahahaha! This is priceless!"

Draco's expression remained perfectly neutral as he gracefully sat down. He caught the back of Harry's pants – "what's with you people? It's not a damn handle!" – and pulled the elf down. Harry landed much less gracefully on the blonde's lap.

"Eeek! What the hell?" Harry said, arms flailing wildly.

"ARGH! Stop being cute! It's highly distracting and it's damn hard to say already!" Draco exclaimed all of a sudden.

"Huh? What is?"

Harry looked utterly clueless.

Draco looked about to have a seizure.

The Gryffindor cocked his head to the side, looking hard at his mate, trying to understand why the blonde would be so nervous. He soon became very absorbed in his musings, totally forgetting the other's gaze on him, as he started discarding one hypothesis after the other.

Draco noticed this; the way the elf's brows were knitted together in concentration; the way he chewed on his lips, getting worried over a detail then stopping and moving on to another explanation; the way he distractedly pulled out the grass all around him.

Harry never saw the tension leave the Slytherin's shoulders, nor the serious eyes suddenly looking straight at him.

"Please, be my mate."

Harry looked up with a start. He was about to play innocent-and-clueless-Harry again, but then he saw the unusual seriousness in those silver eyes, and he knew that Draco would not be fooled. He suddenly felt ridiculously happy that someone knew him well enough to see right through him. But then a very Slytherin idea made its way into his mind.

"I don't know. What will I get?" he said haughtily, nose in the air, arms crossed.

Draco's lips twitched into a small smile. He wound his arms gently but firmly around the warm body on his lap. He then slowly drew closer to his unsuspecting victim, closer and closer until he could smell the rich fragrance of Harry's blood.

Still excruciatingly slowly, he drew his mouth along the soft neck, breathing in the sweet scent.

"Err—Draco?"

Harry had started worrying as soon as he had seen the small smile; he had not been persecuted by a vampire for months in vain. Now he was distractedly wondering if he had not signed his own death warrant, but could not bring himself to care because Draco's warm lips were everywhere on his neck and dammit, how did he know he was weak to this?

As the warm feeling started spreading through his body, Harry's eyes became glazed over. His last working braincells informed him that Draco was now slowly unbuttoning his shirt, all the while kissing the delicate skin on his collar bone.

Harry's eyelids fell of their own accord, allowing him to further concentrate on Draco's soft touch; the smooth hands running up and down his back, his shoulders, his stomach, sending electricity throughout his whole body; the warm lips moving all over him, licking and nibbling playfully.

Suddenly, Draco bit down the tender skin, though as gently as ever.

"Nnnngh..."

Draco drank a tiny amount of blood, his hands stopping their movement for a few seconds. But then, Harry made a small mewling sound at the loss, wrapping his arms and legs around the vampire's body for more, and Draco had to restrain himself very hard in order not to pounce on the elf right then and there. He resumed his petting instead and nuzzled the boy's warm neck, where he licked the small wound clean.

Then he smirked against the soft skin.

"Harry, be my mate."

"Hmnn? Yeah, sure."

Draco's smirk grew wider.

**oOoOo**

Later in the morning, Blaise told Draco that he looked like the proverbial cat who got the cream.

The vampire's feral smirk made his poor fellow Slytherin shudder in fright.

**oOoOo**

"Harry, mate, you look like hell."

"Thank you, Ron, you're helping a lot."

**oOoOo**

While walking to the Great Hall for breakfast, Harry had been in turn muhahaha-ing about having become Draco's mate officially and biting his nails about what it actually implied.

"Morning, everyone! Oh my, Harry you look like—"

"Thank you, Hermione, your dear boyfriend already mentioned this."

"Erm, sorry. Rough night?"

When their best friend failed to answer and went redder than Dumbledore's newest Christmas hat, Ron and Hermione looked at each other. Hermione put two and two together and was about to comment on this, when everyone turned to greet Neville.

"Good morning everyone! Merlin, Harry, you look like—"

"_Yes_, I might have been told so a couple of times already, _thank you_. What's with you all? Is this a bloody Let's-state-the-obvious-contest, or what? If one of you so much as _thinks_ of saying—"

"Wow, Harry you look like shit!" Ginny exclaimed upon joining the group.

**oOoOo**

At the Slytherin table, a very sleepy Pansy was trying and failing miserably to hide her yawns.

"How these Gryffindorks can laugh like a bunch of Care Bears so early in the morning is way beyond me," she muttered.

However, Blaise did not seem to have heard her; he was far too absorbed in his contemplation of a certain someone at the Gryffindor table. Pansy waved in front of him and rolled her eyes when she did not get any kind of response. She muttered something that sounded awfully like "Boys, really" before turning to the Great Doors which had just opened.

"Ah, good, Draco's finally coming for breakfast. Blaise? Blaise! Wake up, you moron!"

Blaise gave a start and muttered something about sexually frustrated harpies, but Pansy was not listening anymore. Indeed, she was watching with a frown as their best friend made a beeline for the Gryffindor table.

"What the—" she started but never got to finish her sentence, because she became far too busy gaping like a broken-jawed hippopotamus.

**oOoOo**

"_No_, Draco, you _didn't_ have to kiss me in front of the entire school!" Harry repeated, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Of course I had to," the blonde said looking very smug. "Now, all those fools know that if they so much as look at you, I'm going to hex their insides out," he finished with a growl.

"Wait, don't you think you're being a tiny bit possessive here?" the Gryffindor tried.

Draco raised a skeptical brow. Harry glared at him then threw up his arms. "—alright, _alright_! Maybe I shouldn't have turned Pansy into a Gorgon. There, I've said it. You happy, now?"

"Why, yes. Yes I am," the vampire was grinning from ear to ear.

A satisfied smirk slowly made its way on Harry's face. "Though you have to admit, there wasn't much work left to do in the first place."

Draco chuckled and without any warning, he pecked his mate on the lips. The elf turned bright red and pointed an accusing finger at the Slytherin.

"You did it again! We're in the middle of the bloody corridor! Stop kissing me where everyone can see!"

Draco raised a brow yet _again _and covered Harry's warm lips with his own _again_, taking his sweet time.

When he finally broke the kiss, the Vampire smirked. "Now everybody _knows_ you're mine. Get used to it."

He turned on his feet and resumed his walking towards the Potions classroom, knowing perfectly well that his mate now had that glazed over, yummy look. After taking a few steps, he noticed that the Gryffindor was not following, so he briefly stopped.

"Come on, shrimp, we're gonna be late for Potions, and you don't want Severus to be even more pissed at you than he already is, right? I don't think he really appreciated our little show this morning."

Harry blanched before running to catch up with the blonde. He then seemed to realize something and glared at his mate: "Don't call me shrimp!"

"Sure, kitten."

"AAAAARGH!"

**oOoOo**

Professor Severus Snape sure was in one hell of a bad mood. His reputation as the Meanest, Most Terrifying and Most Most Evil Professor of Hogwarts had come to an end. Or so he thought, which might not exactly be the case for his poor students, who were still perfectly convinced that he was moodier than he had ever been before – quite the feat indeed.

First, he had entered his classroom to the sight of his favorite godson fiercely hugging his least favorite student, namely one Harry Potter.

Then, when the snarky professor announced he would pair up the students, finally seeing a chance to separate the irkingly happy couple, he made the big mistake of looking his godson in the eye while smirking evilly. The vampire immediately caught on the danger and glared for a few seconds before seeming to get an idea. When his beloved godfather raised a brow, Draco silently mouthed "Sirius" and smiled sweetly. The Gryffindor and Slytherin Seventh Years were very surprised to see that their Professor's face could turn such an interesting shade of white, complimented by a delicate blush across his nose.

Harry had not noticed the silent exchange between godfather and godson as he was too busy brooding over his mate's latest stunt. Biting him and _then_ asking him for things, really. That had to be the most evil scheme ever! And the worst part in the story was that Harry _liked_ the bastard.

"Love's marvellous chemistry, my ass," he muttered through gritted teeth.

"What was that?"

"Nothing, Draco darling," the elf answered in a fake sweet voice.

The blonde merely shook his head, chuckling. Neither of them had to make the potion that day since it was only for those who had failed the previous time, and since Draco had not let Harry mess up their last potion, they were now supposed to have a study period. However, Draco had already finished all his homework. What could he do, now?

"Harryyyy, I'm boooored," he slurred in a very un-Malfoyish manner, his head resting on his elbow. Harry had told him he looked like a pouting three-year old when he was bored, but this was what made him lovable. To what Draco had retorted that Malfoys were no _dogs_, thank you very much, they were the most beautiful creatures on Earth – Malfoys, not dogs. Harry had been about to made a none-too-gentle comment about this, but the Slytherin had quickly silenced him with a kiss. Malfoys are practical people, after all.

Speaking of Harry—

Draco turned to see what his mate was doing; only then did he notice that the Gryffindor was very busy working on something that did not look like some disgusting potion. No, quite the contrary, in fact.

"Harry, what is it you're making that smells so good?"

"Chocolate cake," the green-eyed elf answered non-committally, pushing back one of his long bangs. He had sneaked in the necessary ingredients and was very happy to see that his Baking Spell had worked well. Still not paying the least bit of attention to Snape and whatever disgusting potion he had asked the students to brew, Harry started cutting the cake. Draco blinked, his delicate nose twitching at the sweet smell. He was about to ask for more information, but actually stopped when he caught sight of the oh-so-nice-looking slice that Harry had just cut.

"Come on, give me a bite!" he pleaded, reaching out eagerly.

Harry looked at him impassively before leaning forward and chomping on the awaiting fingers.

"Ow! What was that for?" the blonde cried, nursing his wounded hand.

The Gryffindor smirked. "Don't ask for bites if you're not ready for them. You're the specialist, after all."

"You little—"

"NO! Not the Tickling Attack! Mwahaha! No! That's not fair! Mwahahahaaaa! See if I ever bake you another cake!" the poor elf managed between fits of laughter.

"That'll teach you and your Slytherinish ways, you fake Gryffindor!"

"And what, pray tell, is going on here?" Professor Snape asked in a voice which would have easily deterred the bravest polar bear. Before Harry could think of a proper excuse, the blonde next to him was already speaking smoothly and without a hint of shame at the obvious lie.

"Harry asked me about the effects of the dragon's claws in the Draught of the Living Dead so I was telling him that it all depends on the way you take the dragon itself down; Professor Black told us to be especially careful with the stunning spells because—"

"Yes, alright," the rapidly paling professor said.

"I think Professor Black is brilliant, don't you think, sir?" Draco added innocently.

"Yes—No—Maybe—UGH! Whatever! Go back to your study session! I'll be back in five minutes," the poor man finally managed before dashing out of the classroom. Harry, who was starting to understand that something was wrong with Snape, looked questioningly at his mate. Draco merely shrugged and helped himself with a slice of cake.

"Hahaha! I can't believe you were right, Ron!" Seamus suddenly exclaimed.

Everyone in the room stopped talking.

Ron froze.

Hermione frowned.

Pansy raised a brow.

Blaise threw a suspicious look at the redhead.

"First that bet of yours with Malfoy was just _incredible—_"

Ron turned slightly green.

Dean started making wild desperate gestures for Seamus to _shut up_.

Draco was frantically searching through his pockets for his wand.

Lavender was so intent on listening to what was coming next that she did not notice she was copiously varnishing Parvati's nose, who was totally missing it as well.

"—but that you of all people were the one helping him to—hmphgl!" Ron had finally managed to get Seamus to shut up by shoving a handful of dead worms into his open mouth.

Hermione seemed to have an epiphany while Dean hid under a table.

Neville, not really understanding what was going on, wisely chose the safe option and imitated Dean.

Blaise also ducked for cover while Pansy crawled behind a curtain for safety.

Ron – who was so pale that his freckles stood out like Christmas lights – slowly turned to take a look at his still-best-friend-but-not-for-much-longer-now.

The black cloud had returned with a vengeance above Harry's head and hung low, longs bangs hiding the Gryffindor's eyes. Even Goyle could tell it was not a good sign. Draco was thinking very quickly. If Harry had put two and two together that fast, he had to find something to save his soon-to-be-dead-spy.

Harry and his scary cloud of swirling magic were getting closer to their target. Ron did not even try to justify his actions; he knew he would be dead before he had the time to say "treason". He closed his eyes, preparing himself for a very slow and very painful death when the door to the classroom was slammed open.

There stood a Fifth Year Hufflepuff who looked ready to collapse to the ground, having run all the way down to the Dungeons.

Harry postponed his murderous plans and turned to look at him, intrigued. Everybody imitated him.

"They—They've got him! Huff... huff... They've got him! They—huff..."

Draco frowned. "Who has got whom?"

"The Neo-Death-Eaters—they've got Professor Black!"


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling; I own the ridiculous plot.

**Warning:** SLASH, LANGUAGE, OOC-NESS. This story disregards OotP, HBP and DH, which basically translates into: "lalala I can't hear you, all the characters I like are still alive."

**Pairings:** DM/HP, RW/HG, SS/SB, RL/NT

**Summary: **_He could have been anything. A Goblin. An Orc. A Mountain Troll. Hell, he could have been the King of Dwarves, for all Harry cared. But NO, of all the magical creatures, Draco Malfoy had to be a vampire.__ 7th year at Hogwarts._

**A/N:** /waves white flag from behind a rock _Erm—guys? Why don't you put down these nasty looking knives, swords and – is that a nunchaku? – and let me express my deepest, sincerest apologies for being late, hm? I'm really sorry. College absorbs every freaking minute of my life like some sort of evil sponge._

_Thanks a heap, O favorite Badger of mine! I shall forever remain indebted to thee and thy wonderful beta-ing!_

_**A BIG THANK YOU to all the people who read, reviewed and encouraged me. I hope you like this chapter.**_

To **Draeconin:** _thank you very much for pointing out these mistakes! I promise to correct them soon!_

_**To the people who got confused by chapter 14:**_ _I don' t really know what to tell you except maybe you should go back and read the previous chapters. Then if it's still unclear to you, just leave me a message and I'll make sure to reply._

**oOoOo**

Severus Snape could not believe his bad luck.

He was standing in front of the sink in one of the Dungeon's bathrooms, keeping his head under the stream of cold water from the snake-shaped tap. Severus mentally sighed. He had always thought that Salazar Slytherin was nothing but a girlish snob. Really. Snakes everywhere. Did the man have one of these corny tattoos on his left biceps? 'To Mummy For Life' with a big snake piercing a heart? Urgh.

Not wanting to go down _that_ path, Severus returned to his previous brooding. Why, oh, why did he have to give in when Narcissa had asked him to be little Draco's godfather? Somewhere along the lines, it seemed that the brilliant Potions Master he was had kinda forgotten that 'little Draco' was and always would be a Malfoy. He knew it damn well: "Malfoy" and "blackmail" were pretty much synonymous.

Severus looked at himself in the mirror. Worried onyx eyes stared back at him, contrasting with a pale face framed by long, straight raven hair that seemed a bit dull. While heading back to his classroom, the Head of Slytherin frowned. Since when did he start to care about his neglected appearance? He did not like the voice answering his nice, _rhetorical _question. All the more so when said silly voice mentioned something about a certain someone he did certainly _not_ want to hear about. And that's when he heard it.

"The Neo-Death-Eaters—they've got Professor Black!"

**oOoOo**

_Funny,_ Severus Snape thought.

Funny how one would remember at such a moment that one's stomach was _not_ supposed to sink down like lead. And was it a crazy drum trying to beat its way out of Severus' chest? And why was everything happening as if in a slow motion, anyway?

**oOoOo**

The classroom had been silent for a good minute now. Only the heavy panting of the Hufflepuff could be heard.

Draco had been the only one to notice his godfather standing frozen at the entrance. He frowned when he saw the look of utter astonishment on the stoic man's face. _As if his whole world suddenly didn't make sense anymore,_ the vampire thought distractedly. He was shaken out of his thoughts by a powerful shout:

"SIRIUS! They've taken—they've—BASTARDS!" Harry roared, already sprinting towards the door.

Before Draco could even take a step, Severus had already stopped the elf by gripping his shoulder gently but quite firmly. Harry's flashing green orbs locked with onyx and he suddenly stopped struggling, his shoulders slumped and his head fell onto his chest.

Draco frowned again; while he knew his godfather wouldn't hurt his mate, he still wanted to know what he'd done to him. He opened his mouth, but his godfather was already addressing the whole class in a deep, awfully calm voice.

"Mr. Malfoy and Miss Granger, please accompany your fellow students back to their dorms while I am going to see Headmaster Dumbledore. All of you are to remain in your dorms until a professor comes with further instructions."

He seemed to be thinking very fast about several things at the same time while gathering some multicolored vials as well as a few scrolls covered in weird writings. He quickly strode to the door, where he stopped and turned:

"Draco, make sure that Mr. Potter here stays with you and does not try anything stupid, as usual. Black would have my head if anything happened to his precious godson," he grumbled before disappearing through the door, muttering darkly about foolish godsons and just-as-foolish and idiotic godfathers.

The classroom was dead silent again. Then—

"Was that really Snape just now?" Lavender blinked.

"Did you see his face? Man, I swear his eyes went red for a second!" Blaise said.

"Is he some kind of devil or sumfin?" Goyle asked no one in particular.

"I'd say he looked more like some kind of avenging demon—" Neville trailed off.

Everybody shuddered in agreement.

Draco was starting to think that his godfather owed him a few explanations when his eyes fell onto his eerily silent mate. He quickly joined the elf and, sensing that something was wrong, he gently drew the smaller body into his arms and slowly petted the soft ebony hair.

A few 'awww' were heard among the girls and a few boys. Seamus batted his lashes and grinned rather stupidly while Ron rolled his eyes knowingly.

Hermione loudly cleared her throat and everybody was startled out of their ogling; they started either looking at the ceiling or whistling, as if there were absolutely no such thing as Draco Malfoy hugging Harry Potter in the middle of their classroom. Nope. Not at all.

Still holding his distraught mate by the hand, Draco did as Severus asked, and soon he was leading the group of Slytherin students even lower into the Dungeons, while Hermione expertly led the Gryffindors up to their Tower, dragging a reluctant Ron with her. Despite the fact that he knew Harry would certainly not like to talk to him right now, the redhead was still worried for his best friend. What could Snape have done to Harry for the usually rash and fiery Gryffindor to stop dead in his tracks?

**oOoOo**

_Meanwhile in the Headmaster's Office_

"Albus? Albus! Wake up!" Professor McGonagall snapped, already annoyed.

For the last few days, the old wizard had claimed that his internal clock was set on Tokyo time, and so he promptly went to sleep whenever his staff least expected it.

"And would you please stop that horrible furball from shredding our official documents!" she added pointing at the busy hamster, a vein twitching on her forehead.

"'It' would never eat anything official," the headmaster said with the same old twinkle in his blue eyes. "Told me it tasted like old socks. I wonder if the taste has got anything to do with the content of the paper. It would surely explain why everybody hates official forms. Maybe a banana flavored one—"

"Albus, we do _not_ have time for this right now! Ah, Poppy, Hagrid, just in time! But where are the other professors?"

"Or maybe it's the socks we should work on—" Dumbledore muttered pensively.

"They're taking care of the last students in the Great Hall, they said they'd join us as soon as they're done," Poppy Pomfrey provided helpfully.

"—lemon-flavored socks do sound awfully good, don't you think?"

"There's trouble, Albus! The Neo-Death-Eaters have managed to get Sirius!"

"I would rather say that they have managed to get into Sirius trouble! Hohoho! Get it? Sirius-serious. Hohoho!"

Most of the staff members sweat-dropped while the supposedly wisest man in the wizarding world laughed at his own joke for a good five minutes. Madam Pomfrey seemed terribly lost while Professor McGonagall looked on the verge of a nervous breakdown. As for Hagrid, he had been out of it from the very beginning; as soon as he got inside the room, It, the Headmaster's Hairy Hamster – or 'Triple H' as Ron had fondly called it – abruptly ceased all previous activity. Its black beady eyes zoomed in on the Bushiest Beard he had ever seen.

**oOoOo**

For a few seconds, Hagrid wondered about the starry-eyed furry thing that was looking at him like he was some kind of huge candy.

**oOoOo**

Then, without hesitating, It plunged into the wonderful mass of thick hair.

A frightful war cry – "Squeeeeeeee!" – was the only warning the poor giant received before he saw the tiny hairball bounce and disappear into his beard.

Hagrid jumped in surprise and started searching frantically through the heavy mass.

**oOoOo**

Somewhere hidden among thick bushes of hair, a small hamster was rubbing its tiny paws together; the Bearded God was now his.

**oOoOo**

Dumbledore having stopped laughing, a heavy silence ensued. Then—

"Has someone seen It?"

Madam Hooch made an indignant squeak. "Merlin, he was just spouting nonsense a few seconds ago, and now he's making perverted comments! He has seriously lost it!"

"My point exactly," Dumbledore grinned wildly, happy that someone was finally getting interested in his problem.

Several heavy sighs were heard. At that very moment, the doors banged open and a red-eyed Nazgûl stormed in. Professor McGonagall, behind whom everybody had hidden for safety, had no choice but to try and act as the mediator.

"Erm—Severus? I, um, gather you've heard about Sirius being cap—"

"_Where__**?**_"

"Well, they seem to have taken him to the Shrieking Shack, so we were trying to think about the safest way to approach while at the same time keeping a close watch on Hogwarts and the rest of the students, but there are very few chances that—"

The Head of Gryffindor blinked when she realized she had been talking to the wall for the last thirty seconds. The Potions' Master was nowhere to be seen.

"Lemon drop, anyone?"

**oOoOo**

Draco and Harry had gone back to the Slytherin's personal room; he had explained the situation to the portrait guarding its entrance and locked Harry and himself inside. There was no way his mate would get hurt, and certainly not by people who bore such a ridiculous name at that. Neo-Death-Eaters. Really. Draco mentally huffed and turned back to the Gryffindor, looking worried. Harry was still strangely silent. The vampire swore to himself that he would have a loooong discussion very very soon with his dear godfather. He led the raven-haired wizard to the couch next to the hearth, where a big fire was already cracking merrily.

"So. Tell me Harry, what did he do to you?" Draco asked softly while rubbing circles on his mate's back.

Very slowly, the elf raised his head and started to speak—

**oOoOo**

"Boss?" a nervous voice asked, "There seems to be a very dark aura quickly approaching—"

"Later! Don't interrupt us when we're dealing with the prisoner!"

**oOoOo**

Severus could not believe what he was about to do.

Saving one's archenemy was so _not_ supposed to happen under any circumstances in _The Perfect Slytherin's Handbook_. He could already imagine the stupid mutt shrieking that he had been finally saved by his hero or some crap like that. He would never hear the end of it, but somehow, it seemed that Severus could not bear the idea that someone else was making Black suffer. It would be totally unfair. He was the only one allowed to torture the man, for Circe's sake, and there was absolutely no other reason for this! Right? Right! There was no way he was doing this because he was worried to death for that fleabag of a mutt.

Still grumbling about making useful carpets out of silly dogs, he finally made it to the entry of the Shrieking Shack. Focusing for a minute, he felt the familiar shifting of flesh and bone, the soft, dark fur growing as his senses heightened and he was able to discern several smells, belonging to at least fifteen different people. He was incredibly relieved to smell the familiar scent of wood and earth that was Black among them.

There was only this strange feeling that the other scents were slightly familiar, as if he had been around them for a while—

Shrugging its metaphorical shoulders, the Animagus stepped into the tunnel of the Whomping Willow. Whether he knew them or not, the people who had dared meddle with what was _his_ would pay.

**oOoOo**

The huge black wolf silently crawled nearer and nearer, his fine ears flat on his head. He could already hear a deep voice talking.

What had him puzzled, though, was the fact that there was still no scent of blood in the air. His human mind quickly reviewed all the nasty curses and potions which could be used instead of drawing blood to get a prisoner to speak. There were an awful lot of them. In any case, the black wolf knew he had to hurry. As he drew closer to the room occupied by the Neo-Death-Eaters, Severus grew more and more puzzled. He approached steadily until he was finally crouching behind the door, which stood ajar. Taking a quick decision, the wolf briskly pushed his way through the door and silently landed into the room, ready to jump at the enemy's throat.

However he was not quite ready for the scene that met his eye.

**oOoOo**

"—Maisie, Ralph and Winnaker are not saying a word. It is impossible. They are wooden dolls. But now they have a family and _I think_ they are happy again."(1)

Sirius closed the children's book and smiled. They were just _adorable_.

He was sitting in the middle of the room, surrounded by huge multicolored cushions on which fourteen children rested peacefully. Some looked old enough to be in Hogwarts while others still slept with stuffed bunnies. Some of them were even drooling in their sleep.

Sirius smiled again.

Suddenly, a black shadow at the door caught his eye. There stood a magnificent black wolf, its powerful jaw hanging open, its eyes the size of saucers. Not missing the fact that he was dealing with an Animagus, Sirius put a finger on his lips, gesturing for the other to be quiet. He slowly disentangled himself from the cute little brunette sleeping with her head on his lap.

He made it to the door where he led the way outside. He caught a glance of the wolf walking behind him: the poor animal still seemed to be at a loss. Once they were out and away from the Whomping Willow, Sirius turned to the other Animagus.

"So, may I inquire about the identity of my rescuer?" he raised a curious brow.

Seeing that the wolf was still too shocked to regain its human appearance, Sirius sighed.

"I'll have to guess, right?"

Still shocked, Wolf-Severus could only nod numbly, wondering why he was participating in such a ridiculous game as 'guess-who-the-Animagus-is'.

"Hmmm let's see—my 'kidnapping' must have been reported about half an hour ago so it can't be anyone from the Ministry, that would be way too fast for those guys," Sirius said thoughtfully. His interlocutor nodded again, still not quite there. "Which leaves us Hogwarts' staff and students. Pardon my rude comment, but you don't exactly look like a young pup," he went on while glancing quickly at the wolf's large paws and wide muzzle. "I'm quite familiar with the Animagus Registry and I'm sure there are no wolves among the professors at Hogwarts."

Internally, Severus was slightly impressed by the quick reasoning of his supposedly stupid and immature Nemesis.

"So, you are an unregistered Animagus; you have to be a professor more or less sent by our dear Headmaster."

Upon seeing the wolf's sour face, Sirius burst out laughing.

"Yeah, right. It seems that we share the same opinion on this particular subject. Sooo—you can't be old McGonagall since she's a cat and all—"

The Wolf made a huffing sound. Of course he was not some kind of mangy puss. He was a noble, magnificent wolf of a fine yet powerful build, with long black silky hair and golden eyes.

When Severus finally looked back, he caught Sirius eyeing him suspiciously.

"It's really funny because with the way you're acting all high and mighty, I swear you look just like Severus, but there's absolutely no way in hell that he, of all people would possibly—" Sirius trailed off when he caught sight of the Animagus.

The poor Wolf was looking stubbornly at the ground, refusing to meet the human's eyes.

"..."

The ex-Gryffindor blinked several times, trying very hard to process this incredible piece of information. Severus was positively mortified.

"—Severus?" Sirius finally asked in a small voice.

The wolf looked up and glared as if saying "no, it's your grandma!" In any case, Sirius seemed to understand. The Animagus made a five-feet jump into the air when Sirius suddenly let himself sink down onto the grass. Severus glared again. Did the stupid mutt want him to die of a heart attack?

"I can't believe—" Sirius said, looking lost in thought. "Why would you even—they've drugged you!" he exclaimed suddenly, pouncing on the unsuspecting wolf, who had jumped in surprise yet again.

If Severus had not expected Sirius to tackle him to the ground, what he had expected even less was Sirius groping him, as if looking for the traces of a needle. The Wolf gave an indignant yelp, trying to get away from the crazy wizard, but then the probing and touching gradually turned to scratching and petting, on his belly and behind his ears.

Now, Severus had to deal with the overwhelmingly happy Wolf in him, who, to his deepest shame, could not seem to get enough scratching and was emitting small groans and yaps of satisfaction. Which Sirius did not miss at all, if his grinning face was anything to go by.

"Who are you calling a mutt, eh, you purr-machine!"

If wolves could blush, then they would definitely look like Severus. Seppuku sounded like a really nice option right now.

Suddenly, Sirius pressed his nose onto the wolf's, which made both of them cross their eyes. He burst out laughing and Severus was reminded of the day he gave a bath to Padfoot. Now deeply ashamed of his behavior, Severus decided that he had to put a stop to this. He concentrated and turned back to his human shape at once.

Sirius pouted and started to withdraw from the other wizard, not feeling like getting punched.

"Why'd you always stop the fun when it has barely started?"

In a flash, Severus had grabbed a very surprised Sirius by the collar. He had never really seen the quiet Slytherin lose his temper quite like that before.

"_Fun_? You think it was FUN, you stupid dog!" the Potions' Master yelled while repeatedly pressing an accusing finger into the other's chest, not noticing he was still straddling the blue-eyed wizard. "It sure was _fun as hell_ to think you were at the hands of a group of blood-thirsty terrorists! You careless, brainless, sorry excuse for an Auror! There are people out there who actually care about you, so don't you ever give me a fright like that again!" he ended his rant mere inches away from the other Animagus's face, panting.

Sirius blinked. After a few seconds, he tilted his head skywards, closing his eyes, and gave a sigh.

"Can I really believe that? Because it's what I've always wanted, you know," he said softly, opening his eyes again.

Severus was once again mesmerized by the depth of the clear, icy blue orbs. He sighed.

_I __**know**_ _I'm going to regret this_, he thought as he closed the distance between them and kissed an astonished Sirius on the lips.

"There," Severus said blushing furiously and cursing himself for it. "Now that _that_ is settled, would you like to hmph—"

Sirius was kissing him, both hands resting on Severus's cheeks.

"_The Perfect Slytherin does not 'hide'. He merely stays somewhere safe until the danger is gone," _The Head of Slytherin repeated himself over and over while he buried his reddening face into the soft blue shirt, arms desperately clutching Sirius around the waist, as if he were about to disappear.

It really had come as a huge shock for him. His ego was busy pointing out that it was really just an excuse, and that he acted like some silly schoolgirl with a crush, and that he could not possibly be with a man like Sirius Black.

And for the first time in his eventful life, Severus Snape told his humongous ego to just _shut_ _up_.

**oOoOo**

A few make out sessions later, Severus decided that it was high time to try and get some answers to the Neo-Death-Eaters' mystery.

"I've been working on this case for a few months now," Sirius began, "and I had this strange feeling that I was totally missing something, something incredibly obvious, but I couldn't quite pinpoint it. So I looked through the documents we had on them; they've been sending letters to the Ministry to announce the creation of a Neo-Death-Eater group. What had seemed weird at that time is that there weren't any claims about some eventual changes to the Death Eaters' policy, nor were there any threats or blackmail to get money or magical artefacts. The messages only stated the creation of the 'Neo-Death-Eater' group as if it were some kind of formal announcement for a marriage or something."

He scratched the back of his head. "I must say I'm really ashamed that it's only at the second lecture of the letters that I realized that not only were the owls bringing them from Hogwarts, but also that the paper bore the Parkinson crest as a watermark."

He frowned. "I thought it was really strange that the Parkinsons would be the ones to pull this off, what with being the first 'Dark' family to crawl and beg the Light Side to accept them back. So I decided to see it by myself and came to Hogwarts as the 'Potions assistant professor', where I got to annoy the hell out of you," he grinned cheekily.

Severus hit him on the back of his head while the ex-convinct laughed. Continuing his story, he made a vague gesture in the direction of the nearby Whomping Willow.

"What you've seen back there was the whole 'group of blood-thirsty terrorists', as you've so nicely put it," he grinned again, "led by one Violet Parkinson whom, I quote, 'wanted to show her big sister that she existed'." Basically, all these children are Hogwarts students' little brothers and sisters, all between three and eleven, who merely wanted to 'play' with their elder siblings. It's just incredible that they were able to act secretly for so long, organizing gatherings at school, making Death-Eater-like masks and robes—Miss Parkinson Junior ushered them inside Hogwarts through the secret passage leading to Honeydukes. They've 'captured' me when I caught them red-handed in the corridor. We had some quick negotiations and I ended up reading them a story for their afternoon nap. Feel better now?"

Severus groaned. Brats. He had been worried sick about _brats_. He had acted all rash and stressed up to save a stupid Gryffindor who had been reading children a bloody _story_. He was still brooding when he heard Sirius say something.

"By the way, Oh Valiant Knight Of Mine, since when do you act all Gryffindor and stuff?"

**oOoOo**

Harry was greenish. So was Draco. The blonde just could not believe his ears.

"Severus said _what_?"

Harry winced but repeated his sentence all the same. "He said the demon in him was going to claim Sirius as his mate and that I didn't even want to imagine how _that_ would be done."

**oOoOo**

_(1) This is from a book likely called __**The Hidden House**_ _by Martin Waddell and Angela Barrett. I say 'likely' because I only have the French version so I had to give a possible translation of the title and text._


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling; I own the ridiculous plot.

**Warning:** SLASH, LANGUAGE, OOC-NESS. This story disregards OotP, HBP and DH, which basically translates into: "lalala I can't hear you, all the characters I like are still alive."

**Pairings:** DM/HP, RW/HG, SS/SB, RL/NT

**Summary: **_He could have been anything. A Goblin. An Orc. A Mountain Troll. Hell, he could have been the King of Dwarves, for all Harry cared. But NO, of all the magical creatures, Draco Malfoy had to be a vampire.__ 7th year at Hogwarts._

_**A/N: Um... Hi, guys. Long time no see. Ahem. I'm really sorry about the uber-late update. Thank you for all the nice reviews. I don't know what I'd do without you all. Most probably drop the fic altogether. Or go to the Light Side /shudders So thanks a bunch, I hope you like this chapter.**_

_Spéciale dédicace à toi, __**Ash of Mine**__, ma camarade de toujours. "Que serais-je sans toi qui vins à ma rencontre" et toute cette sorte de choses. Une fois de plus, merci beaucoup pour la phase beta-ing !_

**oOoOo**

"―_can't_ believe it! You, of all people should know not to―"

Severus was vaguely aware of his godson going on and on about his "improper behavior" or some other useless thing. He couldn't bring himself to care though. He had better things to do. Like planning his next revenge on his lovely mate, for instance. Speaking of which, _note to self:_ always check slippers before putting them on. Mate currently in a phase of "Surprise! Didn't think you'd find slugs in _that_ place, eh?"

"―and here I thought you were one of the only rational and mature people in this stupid castle―"

So, yes, Severus had very important matters to tend to and he needed an idea to teach a lesson to one very Sirius Black. But before that he needed to get rid of his godson who was still ranting and raving in the background. What was Draco complaining about, anyway?

"―just had to go and traumatize my mate and―"

Ah, yes, that was it. Potter.

Severus scowled. If nothing, the brat should be grateful for what he did. _He_ was the one who would spend the rest of his life with his immature, prankster, mutt of a godfather. So, what if said mutt had a very nice laugh. And what if he wrinkled his nose prettily when he did so. And he had that cute, almost invisible dimple that―"

"―SEVERUS TOBIAS SNAPE!"

The Head of Slytherin jumped slightly upon hearing his name.

"I've been trying to get your attention for the last five minutes but it seems you were lost in la-la-land yet _again,_" Draco huffed impatiently. "I'm trying to make a point, here! _You_," he pointed at his godfather "won't tell scary things about your lineage to my mate ever again! Can't you keep what you do with Black private? Do I tell you what I do to Harry when I―"

A very green Severus quickly slapped his hand over the vampire's mouth.

"I think I got your point," he muttered.

"Good," Draco smirked before striding out of the Potions Master's office. It was high time to check on his mate.

**oOoOo**

At the other end of the Castle, a certain Gryffindor sneezed. He frowned for a bit but quickly resumed his hunt.

**oOoOo**

It was a wonderful day.

Hermione sat on the windowsill in her room, eyes closed, bathing in the warm light.

Negotiating with the portrait of Joan of Arc had been definitely worth it. True, it had taken Hermione a long time to convince the historical figure that yes, she was British―"DEATH TO YE ALL, YE ENGLISH PIGDOGS! YE SONS OF A SILLY PERSON!"(1)―but no, she was no spy for "that son of a cow Lancaster," she was only a student who happened to enjoy silence.

She had found this particular spot in her 5th year and gained permission to use it from the Headmaster. It was a dusty but comfortable suite for Hogwarts guests. The portrait opened on a nice if somewhat ragged-looking living room, complete with a fireplace and a deep red couch which had seen better days. There was a bathroom through the door on the left. The door on the right led to the room Hermione was currently in, comfortably sat in a huge armchair.

Lately, even the library had started to get noisy and Hermione had grown tired of glaring at over-enthusiastic Hufflepuffs and chasing after plotting Slytherins and so, she had decided to spend some time in her secret haven. She was about to go back to her book when someone knocked on the portrait. Well, more like tried to knock it down.

"Come in!" she shouted from inside the room. She waited a few seconds for the person to enter and called: "In here!"

The door opened on a disheveled, supremely annoyed elf who slammed it behind him, took two steps inside the room, turned around, opened the door and slammed it again.

"Harry?"

"You know, you really ought to change that stupid portrait. Where the hell did she learn all these lightening and fire spells anyway?" he ranted.

"I kinda, um, taught her?" Hermione laughed nervously.

"You did _what_? What are you, suicidal? That woman's off her rocker! First, she insults my parents, then sprouts some nonsense about being on a mission from God(2), and finally she screeches about spies and traitors to the Crown." Harry's expression became somber. "Speaking of traitors, have you seen our dear friend Ron?"

"Last time I saw him, he was trying very hard to look like a tapestry. Said he had to make himself part of the _décor_ if he wanted to survive. I did tell him that redheaded tapestries don't look all that natural in the middle of the Great Hall but anyway," she rubbed her tired eyes before continuing, "I can't believe you two are still arguing over that matter. He was only trying to help, you know he was."

Harry sighed, "I do, but I just want him to apologize for not telling me earlier. Of course everything he told Draco I would've told him myself sooner or later, but still. Dealing with a vampire and a sudden, kickass mysterious power was stressful enough as it was," he finished, grumbling and muttering darkly.

"Awww," Hermione said, batting her lashes in a silly manner.

"Don't make fun of me!" the other Gryffindor pouted. "Draco can be really scary sometimes. Though he can be really nice too―and witty―and―uh, right. I'll go look for Ron, now. Um, thanks Hermione, bye!" he said blushing all the while. He turned on his heels and fled the room, cursing his own damn mushiness.

"Hey, Harry!" Hermione exclaimed as he pulled the door open.

"What?"

"Beware of the Big Bad Vampire!"

She just couldn't resist. He was so cute when he stuck out his tongue like that.

**oOoOo**

He had to be very careful. He knew he was being followed.

He was hidden behind the hideous statue of Yörgl the Bogey, a Troll famous for sneezing upon his enemy to immobilize them with―"EW! Ron, what are you reading about, it's _disgusting_!" Hermione had confiscated the book before he could read further. Tch, and it had been one of the only moments in his life when he actually got interested in History of Magic.

Now, Ronald Weasley had not been put into Gryffindor for nothing. He had a fierce temper and was very protective of his family and friends. There were very few things he was afraid of:

First, his mom. No comment.

Second, spiders. They were just―ew. Way too much hair and waaay too many legs. And why did they have this huge, round hairy abdomen that―ewww. Auto-censorship.

Finally, a pissed off chibi elf was a scary sight. As in, really, _really_ scary. As in, _oh-my-God-I'm-gonna-die-better-start-praying-for-s alvation-right-now_ scary, and that was the very reason why Ronald Weasley was now hugging the walls, crawling like a caterpillar and basically merging with all available surfaces and objects in order not to be found by his best friend, for it could only lead to one thing: him redecorating his dorm with his own guts as garlands.

"To think I did it for his own good," the redhead grumbled, scanning the corridor.

Ron had been very surprised when Malfoy had first asked to talk to him. He had remained mistrustful for a long time before grudgingly accepting to help the vampire. After all, his best mate had no love life whatsoever. Worse than that, he'd narrowly escaped getting eaten alive by a crazed, drooling Ravenclaw going by the name of Cho Chang. But now, he was all lovey-dovey with a powerful vampire who would protect and love him for the rest of his life and all that crap.

"Tch. He should be thanking me, really. Ungrateful little punk," he muttered again, about to leave the dark corner he was currently hiding in. He let out a loud squeak when he felt a hand on his shoulder. A very sweet smile on his face and a dangerous aura surrounding him, Harry tightened his grip on his "best friend's" shoulder.

"Who's ungrateful? Hm?" he asked still smiling, "Who's a punk? And care to tell me WHO'S LITTLE, HUH?"

Uh oh. Blunder.

The elf's eyes flashed silver before returning to a dark green that did nothing to reassure the rapidly paling Ron.

"Now, if you don't want to sleep in Aragog's nest tonight, _speak_."

**oOoOo**

_Searching Mode: on._

_Target: located._

_Tracking method: scent; magical trail._

_Current location: 2nd floor._

_Approximate location of Target: 6th floor._

_Approach started._

**oOoOo**

Ron's shoulders sagged. He silently mused about the unfairness of his situation, and more specifically about the reason why the object of his Third Fear should threaten him with his Second. He was a very misunderstood best friend. One who was about to die in a very painful way.

**oOoOo**

_Hunting Speed: consistent._

_Calculating Possible Obstacles._

_Warning: Pack of migrating Ravenclaws to the right; easily scattered. _

_Warning: Fellow Snakes further down the corridor. Successfully dodged._

_Increasing speed._

_Closing in on: Target._

**oOoOo**

Daphne Greengrass blinked.

"Blaise."

"Hn?"

"Do I even want to know why Draco just zoomed past us grinning like a loony?"

"No, you don't."

"Right."

**oOoOo**

Ron scratched the back of his head. "Hey, Harry, mate!" he tried to grin but failed. Rather miserably at that.

"Good to, er, see you. Um―was there something you wanted to talk about?"

He looked at the determined expression on the elf's face and heaved a long sigh. He was so not getting out of that one.

"Well, uh, see, I kinda―"

**oOoOo**

_TARGET SPOTTED. TARGET SPOTTED. _

**oOoOo**

Harry was impatiently tapping his foot on the ground waiting for his best friend to explain his treacherous behavior, when he got an all-too-familiar foreboding feeling. He tried to jump out of the way but wasn't quick enough. A pair of strong arms encircled him from behind. The saddest part was, he did not even need to look to know who it was.

_Damn, I should be used to it by now._ The poor elf mentally berated himself for his lack of attention for what had to be the hundred and fifty seventh time this week. He then braced himself for what was about to come.

"Harryyyy," the Vampire purred next to his prey's left ear.

Said Gryffindor shuddered. He was about to tell his mate that now was not the right time when he felt soft fingers make their way into his shirt and brush against his stomach.

_Must resist, must resist_―_have to_―s_trangle Ron_―

He could feel the warmth of his mate seep through his clothes. Draco's scent was all around him, and it felt sooo nice being here.

_Must not melt, must not melt. What was the reason again?_

"Who's been a bad little elf, hm?" The blonde started to kiss and nibble at his mate's sensitive neck.

Harry was trying to defend his dignity―

"Nnngh..."

―not too efficiently, when he heard someone mutter on his right:

"So it's alright for _him_ to say 'little' and not me? Hmph, ungrateful little―ouch!"

Draco sent his ex-spy a warning look while still working actively on reducing his mate to a puddle of happy goo.

Ron finally left, rubbing his abused shin. His hurt pride found consolation in the fact that had he not been so busy escaping from his murderous friend, he would have kicked the blonde back. He sighed and took French leave. A couple of minutes later, upon realizing the absence of one very guilty Ronald Weasley, Harry shook himself out of his daze.

"HEY! Where the hell did he―DRACO! I know you did it on purpose!" the Gryffindor pointed at the Slytherin whose innocent, angelic look would deceive anyone. That is, anyone except a very annoyed chibi elf who happened to be, well, his mate.

"You can drop the act right now, you fanged conspirator!"

The vampire smirked. His mate was so cute. Though he'd have to teach him to be a bit more aggressive. After all, he didn't want his mate to be pushed around. But he did plan to be around at all times to protect Harry anyway, so―

"Oi! Are you even listening to―"

"My, my, what is this, trouble in paradise?" a smirking Severus drawled.

The Head of Slytherin had been on his way to the Dungeons when he heard an angry voice he had come to know very well. An angry Harry Potter was always fun to bully. He'd just have to make sure that Sirius didn't hear about it. Severus opened his mouth only to be interrupted by a very severe-looking Professor McGonagall who started lecturing the two students about how improper it was to fight in the corridors and how tired she was to deal with their immature behavior all the time.

When Draco muttered something about showing her that he could do very mature things with Harry, the latter turned bright red and started flailing his arms helplessly. The Head of Gryffindor frowned, wondering why she felt like she had heard something her poor virgin ears shouldn't have. Severus snorted. He didn't really like hearing about his godson and his mate, but he was proud of Draco. Making a fool out of old Minerva right in front of her and live to tell the tale was no easy feat.

"Is there something funny, Severus? Shall I remind you that one of your students is involved? Not that it would be the first time, mind you. Tell me, how do you plan to punish Mr. Malfoy here?"

Suddenly, there was a calculating glint in her eyes, "I think that both boys should settle down their differences once and for all. And what would be better than a Quidditch match to do that?" she asked in a seemingly innocent manner.

Severus slowly turned his head to look at his godson. Oh, no. That was exactly what he had feared. Draco looked positively _delighted_. If the mistrustful frown on Potter's face was anything to go by, the Gryffindor also suspected that this was a very bad idea, even though he didn't really know why just yet. Well, if he didn't, Severus sure as hell did.

"I disagree. I do not think that the boys deserve to _play_ and _chase each other_ around the pitch when they could actually learn their lesson by doing something useful, such as helping Mr. Filch capture a few Boggarts for the next DADA class for example."

"Aren't you trying to get rid of your own chores? I heard Sirius ask you to help Remus prepare for his next class, I do not think it would be fair to the boys and―" she turned to take a look at said boys in order to gather some support for the Quidditch match, but she frowned when she caught sight of them.

Draco seemed lost in his own little world of Quidditch-fantasy where he got to try and catch his mate because, come on, it was practically the rule of the bloody game. As for Harry, he had been lost to them after hearing the word "chase," immediately making the connection with what it implied and the scary grin on the vampire's face.

Although he enjoyed the look on Potter's face – his soul seemed to be slowly coming out of his mouth – because he was perfectly aware of the possible repercussions of such a situation, Severus tried once again to prevent McGonagall from setting loose a newly mated vampire on the Quidditch pitch.

"Excuse me, Minerva, but I must insist," he explained patiently in his most polite voice, or rather, his less icy one, "a Quidditch match would surely not―"

"Have the almighty Slytherins sunk so low that they can't even play a single match?" Minerva asked while checking her nails casually. "Oh, I am sorry, I forgot that your team is so unskilled this year that you all have to hide in shame!" she cackled, eyes twinkling madly.

Severus' cheeks grew red. He knew perfectly well what the old witch was trying to do, but hell if he would let his students and his pride as a Slytherin be insulted.

"You know as well as I do that my team could beat yours into the ground anytime, you Gryffindors are so full of yourselves!"

"Beat my team? Ha! I'd like to see that! Bring it on!" the respectably aged professor exclaimed as she threw her right fist into the air, her left hand resting on her hip.

Right next to them, Harry and Draco blinked. They looked at each other, somewhat doubting the information their eyes and ears were transmitting to their brain.

"Uh―aren't they worse than us in our first year?"

"You kidding me?" Draco said, eyes going from one Head of House to the other. "They're behaving like freaking three-year olds. And _they_," he motioned at the two and then to Harry and himself "want to punish _us_?" he asked bewildered. Harry heaved a huge sigh. Meanwhile, the arguing teachers kept waving their fists angrily and yelling at each other.

"I sure will bring it on, you four-eyed cat! When do I get to see you looking positively floored after our much deserved victory?" the dark-haired teacher asked, eyes glinting evilly.

"Next weekend seems like a wonderful day to wipe the ground with your Slytherin ass!" the witch retorted in a very un-McGonagall-like manner.

"Deal."

"Deal."

They both turned to opposite directions and stomped down the corridor, leaving behind their two perplexed students.

"What the hell was that about?" Harry asked blinking.

"No idea. All I know is that I get to play with you next weekend," Draco answered with a not-so-innocent grin.

Harry sighed again.

**oOoOo**

_(1) I do not own the insults of the French guys in "The Holy Grail" by the Monty Python. Check it out if you haven't watched it yet. It's definitely worth it. _

_ / ? v (equal) s_

_(2) The movie "The Blues Brothers" doesn't belong to me either._


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling; I own the ridiculous plot.

**Warning:** SLASH, LANGUAGE, OOC-NESS. This story disregards OotP, HBP and DH, which basically translates into: "lalala I can't hear you, all the characters I like are still alive."

**Pairings:** DM/HP, RW/HG, SS/SB, RL/NT

**Summary: **_He could have been anything. A Goblin. An Orc. A Mountain Troll. Hell, he could have been the King of Dwarves, for all Harry cared. But NO, of all the magical creatures, Draco Malfoy had to be a vampire.__ 7th year at Hogwarts._

A/N: Um. My excuse is not interesting. Thank you to all of you nice reviewers! And thank you, O Great Beta-Badger!

**o**O**o**O**o**O**o**

The small spider was busy weighing its options. Should it go towards the monstrous pile of odd socks lying ahead? Sure, given the height and density of said pile, it would provide the arachnid with a large and nicely shaded home, but the _smell_—

The spider did not hesitate long before changing directions. It gingerly crawled to the right and started considering the dusty, abandoned-looking pile of course books when a huge shadow suddenly fell upon it.

Ronald Weasley gripped his bunny slipper tightly, smiling evilly at the soon-to-be-squished monstrosity that had dared set its hairy legs in his room. He was a Gryffindor, for Godric's sake! No spider shall cross his path and survive to tell the tale! Or maybe Aragog. And his slightly numerous family. Yeah, but there was no bunny slipper big enough to squish _that_, so—

Trying not to think too much about the weird mental images, Ron shook his head and focused on his task.

"You," he addressed the unsuspecting arachnid, "You're in for one hell of a headache!" he said viciously, slowly crawling towards his target and trying hard to prevent his hand from shaking. Five feet away. '_Breathe, Ron, breathe._' Only three feet away—'_You can do it, c'mon!' _His quivering hand was inches away from the revolting thing—

BANG!

The door was slammed open, making both Ron and the spider jump into the air.

"RON! WHAT ARE YOU STILL DOING IN YOUR ROOM! EVERYONE'S WAITING FOR—you? What the hell are you doing?" asked Dean, rather weirded out by the picture of his friend crawling on the floor like some overgrown caterpillar, butt in the air, brandishing a bunny slipper over his head.

Both boys blinked. Then Ron abruptly turned back to the spider to see that it was—

"GONE! IT'S GONE! Damn you Dean, now I'll have to sleep in my room while not knowing where it went, and what it plans at night, and you have no idea how much distance these nasty things can cover in twelve hours, and if I sleep, I'll never know if it crawled on me and bit me and—"

The redhead grew very white and his eyes rolled to the back of his head right before he fainted with a loud 'thud'. Dean let out a distressed sigh.

"Shit. How am I going to explain this to Harry?"

Somewhere in a jungle of red hair, a very satisfied spider started building its home.

**o**O**o**O**o**O**o**

"Harry, would you _please_ stop pacing like that," Draco sighed for what had to be the twenty-sixth time this morning. "Digging a trench won't get Weasley's ass here any faster."

A growl and a mumble about a certain oh-so-dead-ex-best-friend was his only answer. They were waiting in front of the Great Hall, which certainly was a strategic place to be when one wanted to catch Ronald Weasley. Or strangle him for that matter. Draco watched as the Gryffindor kept walking back and forth. He could almost see the dark cloud hanging above his royally pissed off mate. The silver-eyed Slytherin sighed again and shook his head. The Quidditch match was to take place that very morning and neither his mate nor himself had changed into their Quidditch gear yet. All of this because the Ronald Weasley had become an endangered species quite recently. Draco was not very pleased with the state of things; not because he was worried about the well-being of his soon-to-be-dead-ex-spy – Malfoys don't do pity – but because it delayed his session of Mate-Hunting. Quidditch match. Whatever it was called nowadays. Anyway. Damn Weasley, Draco hated to wait.

Fortunately, Harry and he had already had breakfast, which Draco had most definitely enjoyed.

**o**O**o**O**o**O**o**

_An hour before_

As Draco Malfoy strode in all his vampire glory into the Great Hall, one thought went through the mind of the students already eating there: he was _impeccable_. Even at 7:00 in the freaking morning. Which many students thought was not fair. The Slytherin looked as dashing as ever, halo of silvery blond hair glowing softly, making him appear as the angel he was far from being. His silhouette was nicely accentuated by the graceful flutter of his billowing black robes. He was a Malfoy _and_ a vampire: he just had to be the very epitome of gracefulness.

He sat at his usual spot at the Slytherin table, not paying any attention to the appreciative glances and jealous stares. The only thing he was currently worried about was the absence of a certain vertically challenged elf. A frown marred his handsome features before it was quickly replaced by a predatory smirk. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on locating his wayward mate. After a bit of experimenting, he had found out his bond with Harry had gotten much stronger, materializing into a thin yet powerful thread linking them together while remaining invisible to others.

Harry had thrown an impressive fit upon learning that the thread had been the cause of his recent misery. But then Draco had been all too happy to remind him that said misery had come with a few – NC-17-rated – perks. The vampire chuckled at the memory, oblivious to his poor fellow snakes now inching away from their lunatic leader. He focused on the image of the delicate, silvery green thread, and giving it a strong mental tug.

Thirty seconds later, the great doors flew open, letting through a crumpled bundle of black robes out of which a mop a black hair stuck out messily. Draco smirked and gave one last, sharp mental tug, earning himself a lapful of very sleepy Gryffindor. He took in the sight of rumpled pants and shirt, crooked red and gold tie and not-quite-open green orbs behind black tresses. Harry made what seemed to be a huge effort to open one eye and slowly looked around; he frowned slightly upon noticing he was already in the Great Hall while he vaguely recalled being about to start the laborious descent down the Gryffindor common room. Deciding it was far too early to wonder about such complicated issues, Harry finally looked up to confirm the identity of the person he was currently straddling.

Silvery blond hair, silver eyes, silver and green tie. The Elf nodded to himself before going back to using the Vampire's chest as a pillow and snoozing some more. Screw coffee, Draco decided he liked having a snuggling Harry in the morning.

Next to the happily oblivious couple, Pansy finally recovered from the shock of seeing the love of her life summon the Thorn-in-You-Know-Who's-Side out of nowhere. She would _not_ let her Drakiekins get manipulated by that freaky little—little—that freaky little freak! When she opened her mouth to launch into a righteous speech about her strongly disagreeing with the sitting arrangements, Pansy got immediately silenced by murderous green orbs. Trying not to shudder with fright – and failing – she snapped her hanging mouth shut. Not one to retreat for the sake of self-preservation – the poor size of her brain not allowing her such luxury – Pansy waited for a bit, pretending to nibble on some muffins.

After a few minutes, she slowly maneuvered to sit closer to the Slytherin Ice Prince – whose cool image had somewhat suffered from sharing breakfast in between kisses with a Gryffindork of all people. But still. Pansy would be the one to make him see the light because they were meant to be together and skip hand in hand in a field of daisies and all these wonderful things couples did. Giggling at her own thoughts, Pansy shifted an inch closer, only to jerk back to avoid having her eyes clawed out by a bristling chibi elf. He hissed at her one last time for good measure before returning to sharing his chocolate-chip-banana pancake with his thoroughly entertained mate.

**o**O**o**O**o**O**o**

Yes, Draco definitely liked his breakfasts with Harry.

However, said Elf was now much more awake than back at breakfast, and these days, Harry being awake meant a shortened life expectancy for a certain red-headed Gryffindor who happened to be a traitor, and a traitor who was _late_ for the Quidditch match opposing Gryffindor to Slytherin – the Ultimate Heresy.

So, here they were, waiting; Draco sitting propped up against the railing of the stairs and Harry pacing and snarling like an angry cat every now and then. The vampire finally snapped after another bunch of poor First Years ran back to their dorm shrieking in terror.

"Harry, you do realize that I can't very well let you steal the bullying from Slytherin House, right? I mean, we do have a reputation of evilness to live up to. You know, kicking puppies, bunnies and First Years, the whole package. So would you _please_ stop emitting that killer intent or we'll be responsible for the death-by-starvation of half the school.

Harry had the decency to look a bit sheepish. "I, um—sorry. Didn't mean to," he muttered. He quickly frowned again, "This is so frustrating. How am I supposed to forgive and forget and all that rot if I can't even strangle Ron first? And the match will start soon and I didn't even get to see his face when he woke up wearing a thong, or when he saw his new hair-style, or when he brushed his teeth with mayonnaise, or when he found out about the sand in his clothes and shoes, or when—"

Draco grimaced as the list kept growing. He mentally patted himself on the back for being on the good side of the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Be-Slightly-Vindictive—bitchy was such a harsh word, really. But damn. Who knew Harry could hold a grudge for so long?

The vampire's heart went out to the youngest male Weasley_—__as if_. He was a Malfoy. Pitying people was far below his standards. When it sounded like the mile-long list had finally reached an end, Draco tuned back in.

"—ven listening to me? I'm being frustrated here, and you don't even—EEEEE! COLD HANDS!"

Draco had nonchalantly yanked his mate onto his lap. He looked on innocently – as innocently as was possible for a Malfoy, anyway – while slipping his hands further under Harry's shirt: "I'm remedying the situation."

The Gryffindor spluttered indignantly, cheeks reddening, "Draco, now's not the time to _uuuunnnmm_—"

"See? Much better now," the blonde smirked satisfactorily, letting his fingers wander down the Gryffindor's boxers.

After a few minutes during which rustling of cloth and moans of various lengths were heard, an utterly debauched-looking Harry panted, "I think your—_mnn—_proposal needs—_nnghh—_further examination."

"Is that so?" the vampire asked absently, planting a few kisses in strategic places along his mate's neck. He drew back for a bit to admire his "handy work", making Harry moan at the loss. The vampire critically took in the tousled hair, the opened shirt showing the smooth skin, the flushed cheeks and finally, the invitingly bruised lips.

"Yes. I think it does indeed."

The two ran off hand in hand, not to be seen before a while.

**o**O**o**O**o**O**o**

Madam Hooch had always been a sane person. Or so she liked to think.

Teaching a whole class of First Years how to fly without having them poke each other's eyes out with their brooms sure was a good way to try one's levels of patience. It should have made her prepared to take on anything. Well, anything it seemed, except explaining a rather eccentric Headmaster that _no_, creatures and hybrids were _not_ allowed to play Quidditch, and even more so during their _mating process_, because _everyone – _the spectators as well as the playing teams – would suffer the consequences. And they would be dire, to say the least.

Unfortunately for her, Albus Dumbledore was very much deaf, or very much dumb, or downright looney – she strongly suspected the latter – because when she asked him if he realized that he might as well invite a pack of Wild Trolls to partake in the festivities – the consequent damage would be pretty much the same after all – he answered that it was a wonderful idea, that he had never thought of doing that before, and that he was so happy to work with such open-minded people, really. He left her gaping in the middle of his office, skipping on his way out and humming to himself.

So yes, Madam Hooch was a sane person. She just regretted it would not last much longer.

**o**O**o**O**o**O**o**

Severus Snape was on his merry way to the Quidditch pitch. Well. Maybe not all that merry.

Not that Severus's way would normally be merry, not a snowball chance in Hell, but now it was all the less merry as he had to keep an eye on his hyperactive mate who was currently in his Animagus form just for the hell of it, bouncing excitedly here and there.

Severus followed at a much more dignified pace, pretending not to see when the fluffy black dog started chewing enthusiastically on Pansy Parkinson's skirt. The dog then busied himself leaving an artistic web of drool there before he got distracted by the smell of chocolate coming from Gregory Goyle's pocket. Watching his mate deftly retrieve the object of his gluttony and make a mess of melted chocolate, Severus distractedly thought about the last person who had asked him if he wanted to have children. After meeting the "joy of his life" – as Sirius had introduced himself as – they had never asked again. Duh.

Upon turning back to keep track of his mate, the Potions' Master frowned. Why was the dog so still? It was as if he were in a trance or being hypnotized by something—Severus' dark eyes quickly followed the dog's to land on something he had learned to fear as much as old Voldie himself, if not more.

The end of his life. The beginning of Hell. Horror incarnate in four words:

A Puddle of Mud.

Severus froze. In a slow motion, he saw the black dog's huge eyes glitter, little stars surrounding the reflected image of the large, deep, slimy-looking puddle.

As a desperate 'oh no' echoed somewhere in his mind, Severus did his best to summon his most terrifying glare. The dog must have felt it somehow, for he turned to look at his frozen mate. The shaggy dog actually _smirked_ and wriggled his brows at the poor Potions Master.

"Sirius Orion Black," Severus started in his darkest voice, vein twitching on his forehead, "do not even think about—"

"SPLASH!"

**o**O**o**O**o**O**o**

The boys of the Gryffindor Quidditch team stood frozen in various states of undress as Ronald Weasley, proud Keeper for Gryffindor, entered the locker room. A heavy silence ensued.

It finally broke after quite a long silence with the sound of Dean's jaw hitting the floor somewhere at the back of the room. Then everyone started laughing so hard that even the members of the Slytherin team got curious and came over to see what it was all about. As their eyes finally settled on the redhead, some of them looked as if they were about to have a seizure while others collapsed to the ground laughing hysterically.

Sitting on Draco's lap, Harry stopped snuggling his favorite vampire for a few seconds to turn and admire the walking result of his wrath. He tried very hard to keep the solemn expression on his face:

"Ron—hehe—you're officially—mphr—forgiven. BWAHAHAHAHA!"

And failed.

The youngest male Weasley stood in the middle of the boys' locker room, visibly torn between rejoicing at being finally forgiven by his best mate, and strangling said best mate for taking such good care of him, really. The pink thong had been very uncomfortable waking up in, but had been easily disposed of, even if Neville still looked a bit traumatized. The sand had been more annoying; because he was already very late, what with his valiant fight against the Spider of Doom, Ron did not have time to change and went down to breakfast looking like some hysterical chimpanzee, scratching himself all over. Of course, eating pancakes filled with what had to be _miles_ of sewing thread – Harry and Dobby got along waaaay too well for Ron's taste – had not been the most enjoyable thing either, each bite leaving him under the impression that he was eating some very stringy beans. No, decidedly not enjoyable. But what had definitely been the worst blow to Ron's pride had been to see his hair in the mirror. His _permed_ and _curly_ hair forming a thick vertical hedge on top of his head.

Which explained the red-head's current dilemma. To strangle, or not to strangle, that was the freaking question.

Ron was still weighing his options, remembering his girlfriend's face at breakfast. Hermione had looked horrified, about to laugh madly, then back to horrified, and finally settled for amusedly embarrassed. Surely enough, all the friendship in the world wasn't worth all that suffering, right? But then, Hermione had kissed him and told him she was very proud of him for contributing to Harry's happiness.

Ron looked at said chibi elf, who was currently wiping tears of mirth from his eyes, unconsciously clinging to an equally happy-looking Malfoy. Damn, now Ron had to go and revise his Malfoy-vocabulary: it seemed that "happy-looking" and "Malfoy" were not an oxymoron anymore, even if Malfoy himself was still one – a moron, that is. Ron decided he rather liked his best friend looking happy. Besides, no one said he could not take his own revenge. What was that weird Muggle saying Hermione had tried to teach him? Oh yeah. "Revenge is a fish best beaten cold." Or something. Ron frowned a bit before he shrugged. Muggles were just weird.

When everybody had remembered how to breathe again, Ron scratched the back of his head awkwardly and looked at Harry, "So, you do forgive me, right? No more sneezing powder in my handkerchiefs or anything like that?" he looked at the elf suspiciously.

Harry smiled angelically, batting his lashes. "Me? I'd never do such a thing."

Ron looked at him pointedly.

"Okay, okay, _maybe_ I'd do something like that. But damn, I was pissed off, I did not think—"

"Aww, and that's your problem, Harry, you just don't think," Draco cut in with a smirk, deciding he should put an end to the silly argument. The Gryffindor bristled.

"Hey, I resent tha—_mphnn_" he got rudely interrupted by a soft mouth claiming his, and he quickly forgot he ever resented anyone because Draco was doing something incredible with his tongue that surely he could not resent, and—

Some of the people awww-ed, others mock-gagged. Someone muttered something about fraternizing with the enemy rather enthusiastically. When the couple finally broke apart with the vampire giving his mate one final peck to the lips, Harry seemed to come out of his daze and turned around, glaring at the crowd.

"What are you looking at?" he barked. "I want everybody in Quidditch gear in 5 minutes or else their ass will serve as the Giant Squid's next appetizer, am I making myself clear?"

Everybody scrambled back to their respective place. Draco raised a brow. Even _his_ team had obeyed the Gryffindor. Talk about scary. The vampire watched on as his mate spoke again, "Oh, and Colin, I heard that. You'll be in charge of cleaning the locker and the stands once we're done. _Without_ magic."

As said Gryffindor was about to protest, he added: "And if I hear even one word of complaint about it, I'll shove that stupid camera of yours down your throat. Or worse. Got it?"

The eldest Creevey paled and nodded frantically. Draco raised a brow, looking speculatively at his mate. He would have to explore that authoritative streak later, in a much more private environment. Such as a room, for example. Including a bed. And a naked Harry. Yum. Draco shook his head. He was getting side-tracked. Again. He gently tugged his mate in Quidditch-Captain-Mode back into his chest – "Yeeek, Draco what do you think you're—_hphmmn – _gave him one last lingering kiss – "_nnnnh_" – before he went back to his own team. He had a chase to get ready for. The only thing was, this time he had absolutely no interest whatsoever in the Snitch.

**o**O**o**O**o**O**o**


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling; I own the ridiculous plot.

**Warning:** SLASH, LANGUAGE, OOC-NESS. This story disregards OotP, HBP and DH, which basically translates into: "lalala I can't hear you, all the characters I like are still alive."

**Pairings:** DM/HP, RW/HG, SS/SB, RL/NT

**Summary: **_He could have been anything. A Goblin. An Orc. A Mountain Troll. Hell, he could have been the King of Dwarves, for all Harry cared. But NO, of all the magical creatures, Draco Malfoy had to be a vampire.__ 7th year at Hogwarts._

_A/N: FINALLY! The last chapter's here! Hope you like it!_

**o**O**o**O**o**O**o**

The Quidditch stands were full of chattering students, as was usual at a match opposing Gryffindor to Slytherin.

The Hogwarts staff was also well-represented by a twitching, mud-dripping Potions Master with a lapful of equally drenched, happily barking black furball. It seemed that everytime poor Severus tried to get his wand to get rid of the mess, his rather cumbersome mate tackled him to his seat and cuddled him to death. Next to them, the ever-stern Professor McGonagall pretended not to see her enthusiastic neighbors, even though Severus could swear she had _snickered_ at him. Hagrid was in the middle of a heated argument with Professor Trelawney – something about the accuracy of a Centaur's prediction. It seemed that even Professor Flitwick had come – one could tell by the hand waving the small Gryffindor flag sticking out from behind Professor Sprout. Last but not least, Albus Dumbledore could be found searching his beard frantically; after extracting his wand, a rubber duck, a mousetrap and a red sock, he finally emerged with a victorious 'aHA', brandishing what appeared to be a slightly melted Lemon Drop, which he happily popped into his mouth.

Madame Hooch stood next to the chest containing the Bludgers and the Snitch, watching the crowd worriedly. She sent one last pleading look at the Headmaster, only to sweatdrop at the sight. Well, she had done her job of warning everyone, to hell with it. She motioned for the teams to enter the Pitch.

**o**O**o**O**o**O**o**

Harry had a bad feeling. It started in his guts, making weird knots there; it also seemed as if a bunch of pygmies had thrown a party in his stomach. As he stood behind the gates, feeling remarkably like a lame impression of Gladiator, he tried to calm down. He had no reason to panic, really. He was just playing Quidditch against his mate for the first time since their bonding, in front of a huge crowd watching their every move.

...

The elf pinched the bridge of his nose. He was doomed. To him, the mere idea of a crowd watching _his_ mate, drooling over the vampire's graceful moves, was enough to cause his magic to sizzle and crack ominously.

"Um, Harry?"

A low, animalistic growl told Ron that he was being listened to.

"Are you sure you want to play?" the redhead asked cautiously. In order not to get glared to death, he quickly added, "Not that I don't want you to, mind you, but you're kinda scaring your own team right now, so, d'you think you could stop with the freaky display?"

The bespectacled wizard blinked at his best friend. He then looked at the members of his team, whom he belatedly realized had retreated to the far end of the room. Why did they look as if some wild beast was about to slit their throats?—oh, right. His magic. Loudly cracking and lashing out around him.

"Oops, sorry guys." He reined in his quite obvious temper, looking a bit sheepish.

"Feeling a bit possessive, are we?" Dean wiggled his brows. For the second time in less than ten minutes, Harry spluttered in an undignified manner, blushing bright red.

"Awww, come on Harry, we know he's yours," Ginny giggled.

The poor elf hid behind his hands, feeling utterly humiliated. The gate finally opened, signaling the team to enter the pitch.

"Let's kick some Slytherin ass!" Ron threw a punch in the air. He quickly faltered under the withering glare of his best friend.

"Um. Let's kick all the Slytherin ass which aren't Malfoy's. Right? Haha. Um—Harry?"

Everybody rolled their eyes at the two.

"Come on, Harry, it's time to go," Ginny pushed him forward and he came out stumbling, the crowd roaring at the sight of the proud Gryffindor team.

**o**O**o**O**o**O**o**

On the pitch, a certain vampire gave a snarl which promised a hundred years of pain to the Weaselette who had dared touch his Harry.

**o**O**o**O**o**O**o**

As Madame Hooch kicked the chest open, the two teams soared into the air, assuming their respective positions. Harry was vaguely aware of Justin Finch-Fletchley's magically amplified voice commenting the match, but he was too busy pretending to look for the Snitch.

_Pretending_ being the key-word here.

In all the years he had known about Quidditch, Harry had never imagined how difficult it would be for him to concentrate on the Snitch. He was incredibly angry, imagining the fawning and leering girls practically undressing Draco with their eyes. Harry fumed. The Slytherin was _his_, dammit! Stupid girls should go look for their own personal vampire! He was suddenly pulled out of his philosophical thoughts by what had become a very familiar feeling. Indeed, as he turned to look he saw a flash of green, silver and blonde swooping down on him. The Gryffindor squeaked and plunged down in a desperate attempt to escape his attacker. Draco gave a battle cry.

The chase was on.

**o**O**o**O**o**O**o**

Ron was anxiously looking at the fast approaching Slytherin chasers when he caught sight of something shiny. He blinked owlishly and the Snitch disappeared. Shaking his head, he went back to watching the game, cursing under his breath. What the hell was Harry doing?

**o**O**o**O**o**O**o**

Harry was currently fleeing like he had never fled in his life.

He should have known that Draco would pull out such a weird stunt on him. But what the hell was that all about? In any case, Harry would not let himself get caught. Gripping his broom tightly, he urged it upwards before letting himself drop in a fake free fall. He threw a quick look over his shoulder and cursed loudly.

Not only did the vampire follow his aerobatics without any effort, he also looked like he enjoyed the chase very much.

**o**O**o**O**o**O**o**

Draco was a happy Vampire.

Nothing compared to the exhilarating feeling of chasing his mate, be it on firm ground or in the air. However, Draco quickly realized there was one thing that became increasingly bothersome, and it was the way some people down in the stands were eyeing the Boy-Who-Lived. Everyone knows that Malfoys _do not_ _share_. Still zooming after his elusive mate, the vampire snarled as he flew past a row of First Year Ravenclaws "I've seen you leering at him, you pathetic leeches! Back off!" He fired a few well-aimed _Tarantallegra_ and soon, several students were trapped in a mad tap-dance, sending a few rows into a heap of limbs. Continuing his inspection of the crowd, the blonde soon zeroed in on a bunch of male Fourth Year Slytherins, and left some of them with painful-looking pustules, warts, and various burns while he cursed others with a bad case of genital itch.

"Think I'd spare my own house? Well, think again. He's _mine_, bitches!"

**o**O**o**O**o**O**o**

Severus could not believe his eyes or ears. It was a massacre. And his godson was responsible for it. He could also attribute some of the responsibility to Potter if push came to shove, but still. The Potions Master tried to stand up and put a stop to the rapidly increasing number of casualties, but was forced to sit back as his mate bit down and pulled on his robes. The dog's large, dark eyes were full of mirth and he had a mischievous expression which his mate recognized as the "come on, have fun" Sirius sometimes wore when looking at him. Severus sighed. He might as well go back to watching the game. Because in spite of the utter chaos, the oblivious teams kept playing with all they had, cheered on by a fired up Minerva who kept yelling in a megaphone to make herself heard over the mess.

Everywhere Draco flew, he left behind a trail of desolation. A poor Hufflepuff got changed into a moose; another into a zebu. Most students were now possessing unexpected attributes such as horns, hoods, tails, feathers or even scales; some were cursed to speak in rimes while others had to walk on their hands. Soon, the Quidditch stands were nothing but one big multicolored, loud mess.

Severus felt the beginning of a particularly vicious headache. Would he dare look at the rest of the staff to see if any of them would intervene? The Head of Slytherin slowly turned to see Hagrid blinking at a Professor-Trelawney-Turned-Into-A-Dragon. The one thing confirming the identity of the beast was the fact that it had somehow retained the thick glasses and weird shawl, hence the puzzled look on Hagrid's face. Draco had shown up a few seconds ago, pointing his wand menacingly at the Divination teacher: "And you! I know you've been lusting after him, always telling him he's supposed to die just to get him to weep on your shoulder, huh? Wannabe mate-stealer!"

The look of utter dismay on Severus' face only expanded upon seeing Professor Sprout examine a weird variety of mushroom growing on a Second Year Ravenclaw's head, muttering a 'how interesting' every now and then. Professor Flitwick was currently tugging on his recently acquired bunny ears, marveling loudly at the silky texture. Headmaster Dumbledore was flapping his yellow wings wildly, looking like an overgrown chick. As for Madame Hooch, she was simply ignoring the circus right behind her. Was she—sulking?

**o**O**o**O**o**O**o**

Madame Hooch stood with her back to the stands, ignoring the whole mess behind her. It was not her division, anyway. She had told the headmaster, tried to warn him against it, but noooo, the damn old coot just had to brush her off as if it were nothing. Well, ha! Served him right.

So yes, Madame Hooch was sulking, thank you _very_ much.

**o**O**o**O**o**O**o**

If there was one thing Evan MacPherson was good at, it was Quidditch. He had never really understood his fellow snakes' passion for Transfiguration, Potions, Dark Arts and whatnots. To him, there was nothing like a good game of Quidditch. It required both physical and mental strength, a good deal of strategy as well as a bit of luck. In his three years at Hogwarts, he had yet to see Slytherin win the Cup. However, now that he had made it into the Quidditch team, he was decided to contribute to his House's victory.

He was currently focusing on the Quaffle, which his team had finally intercepted. He dodged a fast approaching Bludger, courtesy of Colin Creevey, and caught the Quaffle from another Slytherin Chaser. He did a quick 360° roll and flew up vertically in an impressive display of skill. As he zoomed towards the Gryffindor posts, Quaffle held tight against his chest and aiming for his victory, Evan had to stop abruptly in order not to crash into the Boy-Who-Lived-Rather-Dangerously who had come to a halt right between him and the Gryffindor Keeper.

"What the—"

Evan was cut off by the voice of—his captain? What the hell was Malfoy doing behind him? Wasn't he supposed to be somewhere much higher after the Snitch? Evan frowned upon noticing that every time his captain made a move to turn around him and get closer to the other Seeker, Potter did the same in order to maintain the distance between them. Shrugging at their weird dance, Evan tried to fly upwards and escape the awkward situation but the two Seekers followed. He frowned again, this time listening to the exchange between them.

"Haaaaarryyyyyy," Draco was calling in a singsong voice. "Don't think you can escape from me," the vampire said with a sinuous smirk.

The elf gulped audibly, not missing the double-entendre. He quickly evaluated his situation. He was practically backed up against the Gryffindor goal posts. If he dived down or tried to fly upwards, Draco would be able to follow him easily. His only chance lay in a vertical back loop and a mad spiral dive around the post. Yes, it was worth trying.

**o**O**o**O**o**O**o**

Eryn O'Sullivan, Third Year and Beater for Gryffindor, was very proud of defending her House's colors. She had always loved fighting and had a mean right hook, which she easily converted into a dangerous swerve of her bat whenever she played Quidditch. As she nonchalantly aimed for one of the Bludgers to hit a rapidly paling Slytherin Chaser, there was a flash of gold in her peripheral vision, and sure enough, when she turned to look, the Snitch floated lazily next to her before it took off again. Unfortunately for a certain chibi elf, Eryn was also famous for her rather short-temper and loud voice.

"POTTER! WHAT THE HELL ARE YE DOIN'?"

**o**O**o**O**o**O**o**

Harry had been about to set his plan into motion when he heard someone yell his name; he was so caught up in escaping his lecherous mate that he had totally forgotten the game. Unfortunately, he was so surprised at the loud noise that he lost balance and fell off his broom.

'For once, I'll crash into the sand' he thought distractedly.

**o**O**o**O**o**O**o**

Draco certainly did not let the occasion pass. He dived right after the Gryffindor and caught him around the waist.

"Oof!" went Harry.

"Yum!" went Draco.

"Roar!" went the crowd.

-**o**0**O**0**o**0**O**0**o**-

EPILOGUE

-**o**0**O**0**o**0**O**0**o**-

After catching his prize, Draco had made a great show of kissing his mate deeply and thoroughly in the middle of the sky, right in front of the motley crowd who had gone momentary still. Once he had been sure that they had gotten his point – 1) They were a bunch of losers, and 2) Harry was _his – _he had promptly left the Quidditch pitch, firmly holding his only weakly protesting and bright red mate against him. Both flew back to the Castle. Neither were seen for the rest of the day.

-**o**0**O**0**o**0**O**0**o**-

The Quidditch match was finally brought to an end after the hasty departure of the two Seekers. The players of both teams could not quite believe their eyes when they finally got a good look at the mess in the stands. Dean raised a brow at Draco's handiwork. "Territorial, much?"

-**o**0**O**0**o**0**O**0**o**-

And that is how Harry Potter came to learn that he did not care much for goblins, orcs, mountain trolls or even kings of dwarves. No, of all the magical creatures, the only one he cared about was Draco Malfoy, a vampire.

And a pretty territorial one, at that.

**END**

-**o**0**O**0**o**0**O**0**o**-

**Final A/N: **To think I kept rambling about how one shouldn't write a fic over ten chapters cuz it's too troublesome to follow. How the heck did it become such a monster? I do realize that many people didn't think the story was at its end, I know it's rather abrupt, but I don't think I can go any further with this story. I would like to thank you all for bearing with me so far; for putting up with my spelling/grammar mistakes, my overuse and abuse of inserted sentences, anime imagery and silly references, my lack of style, my lack of plot, my going overboard, especially with this last chapter which is downright ridiculous. THANK YOU!

One last thank you to Ash of Mine, the coolest beta ever! I would never have reached this point of insanity without you!


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